Trials and Tribulations
by flashwitch
Summary: The sequel to Four O'clock is the worst time in the morning. Shawn is out of hospital, what happens now? Will Truman, Ellis and Randolf get away with it? Will Francine bake me some cookies? And who knew Scouts could be so scary?   I don't own Psych.
1. Chapter 1

**The long awaited sequel to 'Four O'clock is the Worst Time of the Morning'! Warning you know that updates will likely be irregular and sporadic. If you haven't read the prequel 'A Hit to the face and a Broken Heart' I suggest you do so now. Characters introduced therein will make an appearance herein. **

**This starts almost as soon as 'Four O'clock' ended. **

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Several days after 'Four O'Clock' finished...

Stevens had got a six week suspension. Without pay. They'd all gone along to his hearing, for moral support, but it was clear that he had used excessive force. The only reason he still had a job was because of the extenuating circumstances.

Shawn bought him a drink, just one though, because Shawn was still sore and went home early. That's why he was alone in his apartment when the news came through. Truman and Randolf had been released on bail. Lassiter was halfway through his second beer when Buzz came running into the bar. He had been on duty, so he couldn't join them.

"They let them out!" he shouted, breathless as he joined his fellow officers.

"What?" Juliet exclaimed.

"Randolf and Truman made bail. They aren't considered a flight risk."

"What about Ellis?" Lassiter asked quietly, aware that all eyes were on him.

"Well, that's the good news, his 72 hour psych eval is up today, and he's been committed."

"I need to get to Shawn." Lassiter headed for the door.

"Better hurry, it's on the news. I thought he'd be here." Buzz replied apologetically.

* * *

Shawn was, of course, watching Channel Eight news (he preferred the weather girl). When he saw two of the men who kidnapped him staring back at him from the screen.

"... the two men, along with a third who is currently in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital, are accused of kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder. Their alleged victims were Shawn Spencer, the "Psychic" Detective, and Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective of the SBPD. They were released today on bail, following a preliminary hearing."

Shawn didn't hear any more. He dropped the pineapple smoothie he was drinking, and ran to his bedroom. From the bedside table, he pulled a loaded revolver. He had always kept a gun, in fact he had two, but they were usually in a locked box on the top shelf of his closet. Unloaded. It was only since he returned from the hospital that he started keeping one close to him, fully loaded and ready to go.

Then, suddenly, there came a rapping, of someone so harshly rapping at Shawn's chamber door.

"Spencer! Shawn!" Lassiter shouted through the closed door. "Open up!"

Shawn relaxed when he heard his friend's voice, but he didn't really want to deal with anyone right now.

"Shawn! Open up! It's just me." Lassiter called. Shawn hesitated. "I'll give you till the count of three and then I'm breaking down the door." Shawn couldn't help a laugh at that. He went over and opened the door.

"Hey."

"Hey. I take it you heard?" Lassiter asked, eyes going to the gun in Shawn's hand.

"Yeah. How can they do that?"

"There's actually very little evidence against them. And none of them had a record." Lassiter ran his hand through his hair. At that moment Shawn's cell phone rang. Shawn glanced at the caller ID and rolled his eyes.

"Gus!... Yes...no... I'm fine... yes, it's locked... Lassie's here, and I promise I'll stay inside... Gus, no, you wouldn't! I'll be good, scouts honour... well, it's the thought that counts... yes, it is, Gus... Look, I'll see you tomorrow. Meet you at the office, at ten? ... Yeah, you too buddy." He hung up, shaking his head. "He threatened to tell my dad. Can you believe that?"

"Yes." Lassiter smirked. "And even if he doesn't, I bet Henry will know within the hour anyway."

"Yeah. I suppose." He shoved the phone back into his pocket, and they went and sat on the sofa.

"How are you doing?"

"Fantabulous." Shawn rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to do that." Lassiter said gently. He'd seen Shawn without the mask.

"Yes I do." Shawn replied, looking at the floor. _I have to. If I don't I'll break down completely._ He was teetering on the edge as it was.

"Have you talked to anyone about what happened?" Lassiter asked, already knowing the answer. Shawn refused to even admit that certain things had happened. He refused to press charges for the molestation.

"I don't need to talk to anyone. Repression's worked fine for me for years."

"Yeah, repression worked so well for you that you ended up having a breakdown, getting pissed and showing up on my doorstep." Lassiter knew as soon as he said it, that he shouldn't have opened his big fat mouth.

* * *

Shawn got up and went into the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched and his control was slipping. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. He handed one to Lassie and sat down. Lassiter opened his mouth to continue the conversation, but Shawn very pointedly turned the sound up, and changed to channel to a movie channel that was showing _The Princess Bride._ He was saying in everything but words that Lassiter should shut up. He was lucky that Shawn had even let him in, and he knew that if he pissed Shawn off now that he'd be unceremoniously kicked out. He took the hint and sat back to enjoy the film.

Carlton had never seen _The Princess Bride_ before. He liked Inigo Montoya. He also liked the competition of the minds with the Sicilian. Shawn couldn't hold back a grin as Lassiter stared hard at Wesley, wondering where he recognised him from.

Shawn shuffled off to bed, and Lassiter slept on the sofa, hand on his weapon, a nice 9 mil.

* * *

Lassiter woke up with a start, gun out of his holster and ready to kill. It was still pitch dark outside. He glanced at his watch, and snorted. Four o'clock in the morning. Wonderful. He tried to figure out what had woken him from his first sound sleep since the abduction. He listened hard and heard cries coming from Shawn's room. He was on his feet in an instant and racing into the pseudo-psychic's room, terrified that the crooked cops had come after him.

He burst into the room, gun drawn, and shouting a warning. He froze, sighed, and holstered his weapon. Shawn was alone in the room, thrashing and sobbing in his sleep.

"No... don't! Don't touch me!"

"Shawn. Shawn, wake up. It's just a bad dream." Lassiter put his hand out to shake the man awake, but as soon as he touched him, Shawn began thrashing wildly, and hitting out at him.

"No! Get off me !" He cried. Lassiter was worried that Shawn would do himself a damage if he didn't stop. He still had stitches in his back. The Head Detective grabbed Shawn by his shoulders and held him down firmly.

"Shawn! Shawn!" Lassiter said, shaking him firmly to punctuate each repetition of his name. "Shawn!"

Shawn's eyes opened wide and a shudder ran through his entire body. He gave a broken sob and blinked hard. His cheeks were wet. He took a couple of deep breaths, and it was only then that he seemed to register Lassiter's presence.

"Carlton?" He cleared his throat, nervously. "Lassie, I'm not that kind of boy." Lassiter frowned, and then it registered that he was practically lying on top of Shawn in Shawn's own bed.

"Sorry. You were having a nightmare."Lassiter eased back, but kept a hand on Shawn's shoulder and felt the fearful tremors running through the man.

"Coffee?" Shawn said, averting his eyes.

"Sure." Lassiter stepped back to allow Shawn to get up and together they made their way into the kitchen.

When they were both sat at the table with a mug of hot coffee in front of them, Lassiter gave Shawn a long assessing look.

"So?" was all he needed to say. Shawn knew he was asking about the dream.

"What?" He obfuscated.

"What did you dream?"

"Oh, you know. Same old. Truman, now that he's out on bail, comes back to finish the job. He's on top of me... forcing himself on me, and I'm yelling for help. I look down, and there you are. Tied up, the way you were, and you're dead." His voice was trembling.

"Shawn... maybe you need to talk to someone..."

"Nah. I've been in therapy since I was in diapers. My Mom's a head shrinker, remember? It doesn't do me any good, because I know all the right things to say."

"It doesn't have to be a shrink." Lassiter shifted nervously.

"Are you offering to listen to my innermost thoughts, Lassie?" Shawn grinned.

"I just meant that I... I was there. I know what happened..."

"I don't _want_ to talk about it, Lassiter!" Shawn slammed his hand down on the table. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it, I don't want to dream about it."

"I get that, really I do. But you can't just pretend it didn't happen!"

"This coming from the only guy I know more emotionally constipated than me!"

"Hey! I'm trying to help! All I meant is that I know what you're going through."

"You _know_ what I'm going through? I don't remember Truman sticking his hand down your pants!" Shawn shouted. "I don't remember you getting the skin whipped off your back!"

"Do you think it was any easier for me to watch them do that to you?"

"You have no idea what it's like!" Shawn yelled. "I feel him! I feel him all the time. Touching me. I keep telling myself to grow the fuck up. It's not like he got all the way, barely past first base. But I can't make him stop!"

"Shawn..."

"No! You have no right! Why did you wait? Did it turn you on to watch him feel me up? He was drunk, you could have stopped him. You could have got the gun off him!"

"He would have shot you!"

"So what!" Shawn screamed. Lassiter knew he didn't mean it. Well, he hoped he didn't mean it. But it was still hard to hear.

They both stood there, angry and panting, not sure what else to say.

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**So, what do you think? A good beginning? Tell me what you think. :) Y'all know how much I rely on reviews. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I really love you all! **

**Also, seriously, if you haven't read the prequels, 'A hit to the face and a broken heart' and '4 o'clock is the worst time in the morning', go do so now. Right now. Before you read this chapter. I mean it. Otherwise, you'll probably be confused. **

**Enjoy.**

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Lassiter and Shawn both went back to bed soon after that 'discussion'. They were both angry, and upset and overly emotional because of everything that had happened. Lassiter refused to leave, because he didn't want Shawn getting his ass shot off in his absence. He tried to avoid Shawn for the rest of the evening.

Shawn, for his part, lay on his bed and looked at the ceiling. It was strange everything felt... fragile. His emotions were too close to the surface. He'd always been good at pretending, but he just couldn't keep things hidden at the moment. It felt like he was going to blow apart.

Lassiter's plan of avoidance fell through when he heard the younger man cry out from the bedroom. He ran in and found Shawn thrashing in the throes of a nightmare. Again. He shook him awake, and it took a couple of minutes for Shawn to understand where he was, that he was safe. As soon as he did, he pulled away from Lassie, part in embarrassment that he'd witnessed the nightmare, part in remembered anger. It was light outside, so they both started getting ready for the new day in silence.

* * *

Gus sat outside Shawn's place for several minutes before he was due to meet with his friend. He was planning out what he was going to say. Shawn wasn't safe. He was planning on asking his friend to go and stay with his dad, or maybe he could get Lassiter to stay with Shawn and protect him.

He walked up to the door, and didn't bother knocking. As he expected, Shawn's door wasn't even locked.

"Shawn! What the hell are you thinking? You didn't even lock the door! There are two homicidal maniacs out there, gunning for you and you just leave the door open for anyone to just walk in!" Gus ranted as he walked through the living room towards the bedroom.

"Shawn's in the shower right now." An amused voice came from behind him, and he turned to see Lassiter, leaning on the kitchen door frame and holding a mug of coffee. "But you're right. I swear I saw him lock the door last night. He probably unlocked it before he went to the bathroom, knowing you were coming. Just to annoy you."

"Probably, it would be just like him." Gus sighed. "So... you stayed here last night?"

"On the sofa, yes." Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Coffee?"

"Please." Gus sat at the kitchen table while Carlton fixed the drinks. "How is he?"

"Not great. He still refuses to talk about anything that happened, and he isn't sleeping."

"Wonderful." Gus frowned. "But the not sleeping isn't actually all that new."

"Really?"

"Yeah, although it's usually because he can't stop thinking. His brain just doesn't work like other people's."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to get that." Lassiter took a swallow of his coffee. "Can you stay with him today? We had a bit of a... disagreement."

"What? What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I didn't want to leave him alone... but I don't particularly want to be with him right now, either."

"I'll talk to him."

"You can try." Lassiter drained his mug and took it over to the sink. "I'm going to go home, get changed and get to work. Call me if anything happens."

"Of course."

* * *

A few minutes later, Shawn came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and towelling his hair dry.

"Hey, Gus. Lassie leave?"

"Yeah. What happened with you two? He said you'd had some sort of fight?"

"He's just being silly. Everything's fine."

"Fine. Right."

"No need to sound so sceptical." Shawn frowned at his friend.

"No, no reason to sound sceptical. Of course, everything's fine. You just have a couple of maniacs out for your blood, and you've managed to antagonise one of the people who's supposed to be helping you."

"Gus. Breathe." Shawn shook his head. "First off, it doesn't matter if Lassie likes me or not, he'll still do his best to protect me. It's who he is. Secondly, the maniacs are idiots. They couldn't kill me when they had me tied up in a barn. I don't think they're going to be able to get me when all our cop friends, and my dad, are all on high alert." He said it with a confidence he didn't feel. In reality, he was terrified, but that wouldn't help Gus to calm down.

"Why did they let them out anyway?" Gus asked, despondently. "I mean, they're nuts!"

"Yeah, they are. But the evidence against them isn't all that strong. I mean, when you all showed up, me and Lassie had two of them tied up, and Ellis was tied up by the scouts. The lawyers are saying that we took advantage of Ellis's 'delicate mental state' and used him to frame the others."

"What? Do they think you took the skin off your own back?" Gus was righteously angry.

"Actually, yes." He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his still damp hair. "The three of them were cops, you know. They used forensic counter measures, gloves and stuff like that. It's basically my word against theirs."

"What? But that... that's..."

"Yeah. I know. But none of them have a previous criminal record and they were all upstanding members of the community. On the police force and everything. Me? I'm just a psychic."

"This is going to go to trial, isn't it?"

"Unless Truman and Randolf have a sudden attack of conscience, or do something stupid enough to prove themselves guilty."

"That's not good."

"Tell me about it." Shawn sighed. "I just want to get out of here, forget it ever happened."

"Shawn..." Gus said after a moment of startled silence. "You aren't running out on us. You can't."

"I know. I don't want to, not really. But I just want to get away from everything at the same time." Gus nodded slowly, it was a dichotomy he was used to seeing in Shawn.

"How about we pay Miss Molly a visit?" he suggested, tentatively.

"Gus, you're a genius!" Shawn perked right up. There was a bounce in his step and everything.

* * *

They got to the diner in record time, and Gus parked his little blue car out front. Shawn opened the door and walked in like he owned the place. He ignored the various diners, and just walked straight up to the counter. A blonde woman a few years older than him was at the register and she shot him a grin, following it up by poking her tongue out. A woman in her fifties stalked out of the kitchen. She was still a beautiful woman, strong and true. She had a few more lines than she'd had when he'd first visited the diner, and hair that had been chestnut streaked with grey became grey streaked with chestnut. Shawn gave her a sloppy salute as she examined him, straight faced. Only her eyes gave away how glad she was to see him.

She nodded once, as though something was decided, and then gave him a slap on the back of the head.

"Boy, you don't call, you don't write, if it wasn't for your love of the spotlight, we'd have thought you dead in a ditch. Now, get. There's floors need sweeping."

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled, and it reached his eyes in a way not many had lately.

"Nice to see you, Gus." She nodded to the dark skinned man who eyed her warily. "Josephine! Fetch our boys a milkshake each. Strawberry!"

Visiting with Molly was always hard work, but it always left Shawn with a sense of belonging and accomplishment that he hardly ever felt. Plus, he always got Molly's to die for Pineapple Upside Down Cake with a Twist, as a reward.

* * *

They helped out till closing time, doing whatever Molly needed them to do, which this time included them fixing the window that wouldn't open and making sure there was enough oil in her old pick up. Not to mention the dishes they washed and the floors they swept. They were always exhausted at the end of a visit with Molly, but they always decided it was worth it.

Shawn pushed the Pineapple Upside Down Cake with a Twist around on his plate. He looked at his fork, and sighed.

"Josephine, why don't you take Gus and show him that dog you've been after me to buy?" Molly said, not taking her eyes off Shawn's. Gus knew an order when it was being sugar coated right in front of him.

"Hey, Jo, that sounds good. I'd like to see the puppy."

"She's not going to get him. She keeps _saying _she will, but..." The two of them left.

"So?" Molly asked. And that was that. He never had a defence against this woman.

"I'm in a bad way, Miss Molly."

"It's just Molly as you damn well know. Is this to do with those psycho's out on bail?"

"How did you...?" Shawn shook his head. "I know damn well that you don't own a TV..."

"No, but I do keep an eye on my favourite psychic detective. And I saw your ugly mug on the TVs in Dixons window, so I stopped to watch. I know how bad your luck is."

"True." Shawn laughed, but there was no humour in it. "I wanted to call you to come to the hospital, but at the same time, I didn't want you there. I want to keep this separate. Does that make sense?"

"Sure. This is where you come to when things get bad. If we were there while things were getting bad, you wouldn't have anywhere to escape to." Her eyes were as sharp as they always were and she had noticed how stiffly he'd been holding himself, and she'd seen the way he'd nearly punched the man who'd put a hand on his arm to get his attention. "What did they do to you?"

"They hurt me." Shawn admitted, staring at the checked table cloth.

"Boy, I've seen you hurt. I've seen you after you crashed that beautiful bike of yours, I saw you after you were taken hostage, I've seen you after you've been shot for crying out loud. But I've never seen you like this. You're... breaking. If you haven't already broken."

"I don't know how to do this any more, Miss Molly."

"Sure you do. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other. You were hurt, and hurt bad, but you aren't broken yet. And you aren't gonna let that happen. Know why?"

"No. Why?" He quirked a smile.

"Because if you break, they've won. And the boy I know would never let three bastard criminals win."

"I don't want them to win. But it's so hard. I feel like I'm walking up hill through treacle, which would be both delicious, and good exercise. I'm not getting anywhere."

"Nothing worth doing is easy, boy!" She snorted. "I thought you'd gotten that one through your overly gelled hair and into your brain. And the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. You just have to keep trying."

Shawn looked at her for a long moment.

"Did you just quote Buffy the Vampire Slayer in your motivational speech? 'The hardest thing in this world is to live in it'? Seriously?"

"Feel better?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Then it worked. Don't diss the speech. Also, I worship at the altar of Joss."

Shawn laughed. An honest to God laugh and it surprised both of them.

He laughed all the harder when Gus came back in, shame faced, carrying the hound that Josephine had been wanting. The woman trotting along at his side looked smug, and gently stroked the pup's head.

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**Josephine has tragic back story which may be explored in other stories in this series, but in my mind she was an abused runaway that Miss Molly took in, and because of said abuse, she is slightly unusual. She acts like a child now because she didn't get the chance to be one as a child. If that makes sense. She may also have a learning difficulty or mental disability, but I'm not sure yet. **

**Let me know what you think. Reviews are love. #**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before you start this chapter, I got a review which said:**

"Pardon me for being nitpicky, but skeptical is spelled with a "k." That's all I got. It's too early to comment much on the plot but at least it's keeping with the flow of its predecessor."

**I just wanted to explain, because things like this will probably happen again, I've had similar before, that this story is written in English, not American. Therefore, color has a 'u'. Theater is spelled theatre. And it's aeroplane, not airplane. I get that the reviewer was just being a little 'nitpicky', but it's kind of a pet-peeve of mine. I do try and use Americanization's when setting a story in America, such as Mom, not Mum or Mummy. But if it's just a difference in spelling, not pronunciation, then I use the English version every time. Also, I often don't realise which words you guys spell differently, or use in certain contexts. I had a similar review on 'Four O'clock' about saying whinge wasn't American and to use whine instead! **

**I just wanted to warn you all, and also apologise to the reviewer for the slightly snarky reply I sent in response. Thanks, as always to everybody who reviewed the previous chapter, and I hope you made it through that slightly ridiculous author's note. Sorry****. :) It is all in good fun... Ignore me, I'm a crazy English person. Hey, at least you know I pay attention to all comments I get!**

**Kerb=curb and Span=spun. (I managed to confuse another reviewer with my Englishness!) **

**Enjoy.**

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Gus drove to back Shawn's apartment and pulled up to the kerb. Somehow, he wasn't the least surprised to see Lassiter sitting on the door step in the dark.

"Wonderful." Shawn sighed, but he wasn't going to let Lassiter ruin his new good mood.

"You want me to come in?"

"Nah. I can handle Lassie. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I think your Dad will want to see you tomorrow too, though."

"I know. You get to play buffer! Isn't that great?" Shawn jumped out of the car without giving him chance to answer.

Gus pulled away, and Shawn stood there waving till his friend was out of sight.

"I'm sorry." Lassiter said, as Shawn walked straight past him to open his front door. "I just..."

"Come on in." Shawn sighed. Staying mad at him now would be like kicking the puppy Gus bought for Jo. "I saved you some cake." He put the purple box onto the counter and pulled out a slice, grabbing a plate for Lassie.

"You seem... remarkably calm."

"I've had a good day." He busied himself with the coffee pot, and handed Lassiter a fork.

"I take it you didn't go see your father, then."

"I went to see Molly."

"Molly? Wait, diner Molly from the hospital story?" Lassiter looked at him incredulously. His forkful of cake froze, forgotten, between the plate and his mouth.

"Yep, that Molly. She and Jo still run the place. It's where I go when I need cheering up, or when I feel like running."

"Then why didn't you go there that night?" Lassiter asked, and Shawn knew he was talking about the night he'd shown up drunk at Lassiter's at four o'clock in the morning.

"Because... I don't like to go there when I'm at my worst. Before or after my worst, sure. But if I go there when I'm that bad off, Molly'd probably beat me up, and then check me into a mental hospital." He smiled. "Not to mention, they don't deserve me in that state."

"What?" Lassiter stared at Shawn. He put the fork down altogether.

"I know what I'm like. I know how miserable and depressing I get. Molly never did anything to deserve putting up with me whining at her. I love her and Jo, and I don't want to inflict myself on them."

"Shawn... I think they'd be happy to help." Lassiter couldn't meet his eyes as he said it. Shawn took that to mean he was lying. But, in reality, he was embarrassed. Lassiter had been surprised how happy it had made him to have Shawn come to _him_ and not Gus, or Juliet.

"Yeah, well." Shawn shrugged. "I'm sorry about last night. Or was it this morning?"

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"You can if you like." Shawn smiled briefly. "I didn't mean what I said. I was way out of line. I... I may not be coping as well as I thought."

"Yeah." Lassiter scrubbed his hand through his hair. "And I shouldn't have said I know what you mean. It was stupid."

"God, I need a drink."

"Not with the meds." Lassiter said immediately.

"I know." Shawn pouted. "Coffee?"

"Please."

* * *

Shawn poured the coffees and they went over to sit on the sofa, Lassiter bringing his cake with them. They sat in silence, while Lassie had his cake and ate it too, and Shawn tossed a small stress ball from hand to hand. Carlton couldn't hold back a smirk when he realised it was in the shape of a pineapple.

"What kind of a name is Carlton?"

"Excuse me?" Lassiter was surprised by the seeming non-sequitur.

"It suits you, which is odd, because the only other Carlton I know of is Will Smith's cousin on Fresh Prince of Bel Air."

"It's a family name."

"I used to know the whole theme tune to Fresh Prince. I used it to annoy Gus. I wonder if I still do. _Now, this is a story all about how, my life got twist-turned upside down. I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, to tell you how I became the Prince of a town called-"_

"I thought you had an eidetic memory." Lassiter interrupted. Loudly.

"I do, but it's more for things I've seen than things I've heard, although my audio memory is better than most. Now my Mom, she can remember anything you say to her."

"Yeah. She told me. And I think you mentioned it, too. "

"So, do you think your Mom was a Fresh Prince fan?"

"You're babbling." Lassie smiled.

"I know, it's like my default setting." Shawn replied. He knew that he was chattering away about nothing. He wanted to say something, to explain... but it was difficult. So, instead he was giving nonsensical ramblings about TV shows starring Will Smith. He knew that the show wasn't old enough to have a bearing on Lassie's name, but he'd just latched onto it as something to distract them both.

* * *

There was a long gap in the conversation. Long enough for the coffee to be drunk, and a fresh pot to boil. Lassie doctored his with several creams and sugars, and took a sip, but Shawn merely held his between his palms. He stared into the dark brown depths as though the mug held the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and everything. It was just getting to the point where the silence was uncomfortable, when Shawn spoke.

"It's not the first time."

"Excuse me?"

"Rape. Although he didn't get as far this time, and I _am _thankful for that. It's just... it brings back memories."

"You were raped before?" Lassiter's hands had become fists, the more he learned about Shawn, the more in awe of him he was. He watched as Shawn wrapped his arms around his torso in a self-hug and refused to meet the Detective's eyes.

"Yeah. Gus knows, but no one else. I didn't even report it. I tried, I got to the station and everything, but..." He shrugged.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"No. Not really."

"Okay."

"I just... did you know that statistically speaking people who have been raped once are more likely to be assaulted again? No one can figure out why."

"Shawn..."

"I thought I was over it. I thought I'd come to terms with it and put it behind me, but I'm having nightmares again."

"Well, don't hate me for saying so, but that's perfectly understandable."

"Yeah. I know." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up all over the place. "I just thought... I wanted it all to be over. I thought it _was_ all over. I don't want to go back to that place in my head." He began pacing with nervous energy.

Lassiter laughed a little, and it was a hollow, sad sound.

"What?" Shawn was immediately on the defensive, wrapping his arms back around his torso.

"Shawn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, it's just... you seem to be so happy, and you always talk about your past with such... I don't know... excitement. But the more I learn about you as a real human being, the more I'm shocked you're not on anti-depressants."

"Yeah. I'm pretty good at compartmentalisation." He gave an honest to God grin. Real and full of humour, if slightly wistful, and it actually hurt Lassiter to see it.

"You don't have to hide with me." He said. "Wasn't that the point of all this? What you wanted?"

"Yeah, I guess." Shawn shrugged and looked away.

* * *

There was a noise outside.

They both froze. Lassiter drew his gun, and Shawn grabbed his own from a draw in the coffee table. His mother was a psychologist, specialising in police officers, so Shawn knew that Hyper-vigilance was a sign of Post traumatic Stress Disorder.

_Just because I know it's a symptom, doesn't mean I can stop exhibiting it. _Shawn thought ruefully, as he considered how he needed to keep his guns close, and had deliberately sat facing the door.

Lassiter frowned as Shawn checked and readied his weapon, mourning for the loss of that small bit of innocence.

It could have been anything. It didn't have to be something sinister, but there was a cold feeling in Lassiter's gut, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He rarely trusted his instincts, knowing that evidence makes a case, not guts. But he knew, he _knew_ with the same certainty he'd had that the astronomer had been murdered, that there was something wrong. Well, if it was _them_ he'd make them regret it.

They went to the front door, and stood, one either side of it. Lassiter made a series of hand gestures, the ones Henry had drilled Shawn in. They would go out on the count of three, Shawn left, Lassiter right.

Carlton threw open the door and they burst through it, guns first.

There was no one there.

They did a perimeter search, carefully checking everywhere. But it was all clear. When they had completed a full circuit of the exterior of the old dry cleaners Shawn was renting, Lassiter looked at Shawn and shrugged helplessly. He was about to say they were being paranoid and overreacting, suggest that they should go back inside, when there was a noise behind them. Shawn span around, gun pointed inexorably at the source of the noise, Lassiter only a split second behind him.

"Meow?"

There was a gunshot and the smell of cordite on the air.

* * *

**Muhahahahahaha! **

**Sorry, I know it's a little shorter than the others. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been a while, esp since it was a cliffie, but I'm having trouble on the next chapter. Special apologies got to Plogop. I actually had this chap finished, but didn't want to post it till I got past my block on chap 5. But, when I got Plogop's review, I decided I'd better post. It may be a little while before the next on.**

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* * *

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"Meow!"

Shawn just managed to grab Lassiter's arm and knock his aim off course. The cat yelped and scampered into a cardboard box that was upended in the alley.

They stared in disbelief. Then Shawn began to laugh, and scooped the little creature up. It was shaking where it curled in the box. The cat couldn't be more than a few weeks old. It was a tortoise-shell kitten, with long whiskers and a white patch on it's throat, and it was far too thin. It had obviously been separated from it's mother, or maybe the Mama Cat had died. There was blood coming from a small round hole in it's ear, and a long scrape along it's side. The bullet had passed straight through the ear, and then clipped Kitty's shoulder. It soon settled in Shawn's arms, mewling a little as he examined the wound.

_I went on record to the Chief, telling her I'd never shoot a cat. _Lassiter thought. He was stunned._ Well, unless it was approaching in a threatening manner, and this little guy certainly was. He scared the crap out of me!_ He almost groaned, knowing this incident would lead to a lot of teasing if it got out. Especially given how sure he'd been that there was something wrong. That someone was out here. _Oh well, that's why I don't trust my gut. It lies._

"It's a girl." Shawn declared, not bothering to check the kitten's privates. "And I shall call her Little Girl Cat. LGC for short."

"Shawn, are you sure? Your record for guessing the gender of mammals isn't brilliant." Lassiter grinned, getting over the shock finally. He clapped Shawn on the shoulder as they headed back to the front door.

"Just because I was wrong about that stripper in Las Vegas... oh, you mean Little Boy Cat."

"Yes, I meant... what stripper in Las-?" Lassiter stopped and put his arm out to stop Shawn getting closer to the door. "Shawn?"

"I see it." He turned around in a slow circle, looking for anything, anyone. He shuffled the kitten so he could hold it in one handed, and raised the gun, ready to shoot. "How could they do this without us seeing them?"

"I don't know. Get inside. I'm calling the Chief. Lock all the doors and windows. And call Gus."

"Yes, sir!" Shawn saluted sharply. "You should come inside too. I wasn't the only one they kidnapped." Lassiter looked at him for a long minute, but the panic hiding in Shawn's eyes was hard to refuse. He nodded and followed him inside.

* * *

Gus arrived before the Chief and O'Hara and he entered using the key he'd cloned from Shawn's, a sick look on his face.

"You okay?" He checked, going over to sit beside his best friend.

"Yeah. I... I just... they were right there and we couldn't even see them."

"It's going to be okay, Shawn." Gus said, and wrapped his arms around him. They sat there like that for a long moment.

"Dude." Shawn said in a slightly watery voice. "No chick flick moments." Gus pulled back and looked at Lassiter, who had on his angry eyes. They exchanged a nod.

It wasn't until then that Gus registered the blood on Shawn's shirt.

"Shawn! Tell me that's ketchup!"

"No can do, buddy." Shawn smiled wanly. "It's closer to something Edward Cullen, or Bill Compton, or even Count Von Count would drink."

"Then at least tell me it's not yours!"

"That I can do. It's not yours."

"Shawn!"

"And it's not mine either. Chill, dude. It's LGC's." He pointed, and Gus saw a small furry creature curled on the floor.

"What the hell happened?" Gus asked, looking from Shawn, to Lassie, to LGC. "And you'd better not let that cat ride shotgun."

* * *

"Shawn, you shouldn't have said anything. You told lies. Lies about us. Now, everyone thinks that we're the bad guys, when we all know you are. You and him. When we get a hold of you again, we won't waste any time. You will be fucked hard and killed slow, and I will enjoy every minute of it. If you can keep your fucking mouth shut, then maybe we'll just let you leave town, instead of hunting you down." Juliet read.

She and Vick had arrived about half an hour ago, along with several officers and a team of CSI's. The letter was in a clear plastic evidence bag, but they all doubted there would be any fingerprints etc on it. The rogue cops were just too good. In a second bag was a photograph of Shawn with his face crossed out in red marker pen.

"We know what it says, Jules." Shawn said softly.

"Shawn I... I'm sorry." There was quiet pain in his eyes, and it hurt her to look at him. She put the letter in the bag down on the coffee table.

Little Girl Cat batted at the edge of the bag, where it hung over the edge of the table and then curled up on a cushion and regarded them all as if she owned the joint. Juliet smiled and stroked the kitten gently with one finger. LGC had a makeshift bandage over the gunshot wound. She didn't seem to be in much pain. Lassiter had sent Buzz (he'd arrived with O'Hara and Vick) to pick up some Kitten Food, which had gotten him a small smile from Shawn.

"Why are they doing this? What do they hope to get out of it?" Gus asked.

The Chief and Juliet exchanged a glance.

"Well," Vick said. "They're putting forth the story the Shawn and Lassiter are in a relationship. They admit to harassing Shawn and they say that the two of you attacked them, kidnapped them and framed them in revenge, resulting in Mr Ellis's break from reality."

Shawn snorted in disgust.

"They're trying to make it look like your trying to frame them by leaving things that obviously point to them, but have no physical evidence on them. If there's no fingerprints and so on, then this actually points more to you than to them." Juliet added. "It doesn't help that the judge is really old fashioned and doesn't believe in psychics. He's predisposed to think you're lying."

"And if the letter scares you off in the meantime...?" The Chief trailed off suggestively, and shrugged.

"What about the injuries?" Gus asked. Shawn had already tried explaining the underhanded tactics to him, but he just didn't understand how a group of plainly guilty people could just go free. And was usually the one _supporting_ the American legal system!

"They say Lassiter is an abusive boyfriend and he gave Shawn those injuries, and that Shawn fought back, giving Carlton his injuries."

"They're going with an underground BDSM thing gone wrong." Juliet added.

"What?"Lassiter laughed out loud. "They actually think they're going to get away with that?"

"You know how little evidence we have against them..." Vick trailed off. She shook her head. "You know as well as I do that misdirection is the defence's friend."

They all slept badly that night.

* * *

The next morning found Henry standing on his son's porch. He knocked, but when there was no answer, he grabbed he hide-a-key (which was _not _hidden in a fake rock), and entered, fearing the worst.

What he found instead made him stop and smile. His son always was good at winning allies. Asleep on the sofa were Chief Vick and Detective O'Hara. Gus was slumped in the armchair, thumb in his mouth, clutching a pillow to his chest. Henry couldn't hold back a chuckle.

He went through into the bedroom and found Shawn asleep on his side, his face pale and drawn. Lassiter was sleeping on the other side of the bed, fully clothed, and his hand was on his gun which sat on the bedside table.

At one time, finding his son in bed with another man would have worried Henry. It still did, but now he wasn't worried about lack of grandchildren or Shawn's sexuality, but about what could have happened last night to have made them all worried enough that they didn't want to leave his son alone.

And what had kept them up late enough that 3 police officers could sleep through his entrance.

Henry backed slowly through his son's home till he reached the front door. He pulled it open and slammed it as loudly as he could with a yell of 'Shawn!'

* * *

Immediately everyone startled awake. Henry found himself staring down the barrels of Juliet and Karen's guns. Gus screamed like a girl. He then proceeded to hide behind his cuddle-cushion. The bedroom door burst open and Lassiter came running out, also with a gun.

"Stay in there, Shawn!" He called behind him. Shawn, of course, didn't listen and followed with a gun of his own.

"Oh. Hi Dad."

"Hi, Shawn. Lassiter, Gus, Karen, O'Hara."

"Henry." The Chief said. Everyone holstered their respective weapons.

"So." Henry said, looking around at everyone. "What exactly happened here last night?"

"We had a party. We would have invited you... but..." Shawn grinned and shrugged.

"Karen?"

"There was... an incident."

"An incident?" Henry asked, giving Shawn a quick visual once over.

"He's fine. Not a new scratch on him." Karen assured.

"Hello? In the room!"

"Karen, what happened?"

"Someone left a threatening letter and a photograph, torn from a newspaper, of Shawn. They'd nailed them to the door."

"Those bastards." Henry felt a distant pain in his hands and he looked down to see that his hands had become fists entirely of their own accord. His fingernails were digging into his palms. He slowly and deliberately uncurled them. It wasn't the letter and the photo themselves that had him upset. It was the idea that they'd been that close to his son. They could have... Shawn could have been... He felt something cold clench in his stomach. It took him a moment to recognise it as fear.

"I'm fine, Dad." Shawn said quietly, his eyes (as usual) seeing too much.

"Shawn, if they'd... they were at your front door."

"I know. I didn't... Dad, I'm fine. Really." He smirked.

"Shawn, Detective O'Hara and I need to go to the station, see if CSI have got anything." Karen said, straightening her suit. She glanced at Juliet and noted that her hair was ruffled and her suit was dishevelled. "Maybe we'd better go home and freshen up first." Juliet nodded gratefully.

The two women left and as soon as they got outside, Karen pulled out her cell.

"Hi honey... Yeah, I'm sorry. It was Shawn...How's Iris?... Yeah?... She did?... Okay. I'll stop off at home before I have to go to works. Love you." She hung up.

"I forgot you had Iris at home." Juliet said, her face clouded with guilt.

"Luckily she's small enough that she doesn't mind if I'm not there for a night. But it's hard. For anyone else but Shawn..."

"I know. He gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

They exchanged an understanding glance.

* * *

Back inside, Henry sat his son down.

"What really happened?"

"Dad..."

"Shawn."

"Hey, we're going to do that thing..." Lassiter said grabbing Gus's arm and pulling.

"...Oh, yeah. The thing! In the place!" Gus said and the pair of the dashed out of the room.

"So, you want to tell me what happened?"

"Okay. Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out. Now, tell me."

"Okay. Me and Lassiter were talking and then we heard a noise, but there was no one there, just LGC, so we headed back here with her, and it was on the door. They were out there. And I couldn't see them! I didn't see them, Dad!" His hands were shaking. "They could have... they were right there, and I couldn't see them!"

Henry took his son into his arms, and held him while he shook.

* * *

**So? Thoughts, opinions?**

** Originally, the gunshot was going to miss LGC altogether, but I figured, what the heck. **

**No animals were harmed during the writing of this fanfic. A goat did almost choke yesterday, thanks to my kid brother, but that's a totally different story. **

**The next chapter is driving me mad, so it might be a little longer than I'd like before it's uploaded. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Also, to avoid flames, I am not a Twilight fan. I also don't hate it. I am completely indifferent to it's existence. I put in the reference because he's a popular little vampire, and it seemed like something Shawn would say. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Finally! I finished Chapter 5! Still not entirely happy with it. Think it's all the Henry.**

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Henry held his son until he'd calmed enough to realise that he was being held in his father's arms. Shawn pulled back and swiped a hand under his eyes. He was surprised to find his cheeks dry.

"Sorry." Shawn said, unable to meet Henry's eyes.

"It's fine." He replied, his throat suspiciously tight. He hadn't hugged Shawn like that since he was little. He tried to meet Shawn's eyes, wanting to talk to him about all that was happening, but Shawn wouldn't look at him. Shawn, he realised, was embarrassed.

_Of course he's embarrassed. _Henry realised. _ He's breaking down in front of his father, who always told him it was a cardinal sin to be scared, or show emotion._

"Shawn, it really is fine. It's natural, after what happened. Just... don't let it stop you from living your life."

"I didn't see them." Shawn said; his voice defeated. "I see everything, Dad, but I couldn't see them. What if... What if what happened... broke me? What if I can't do it anymore?"

Henry looked at him for a long moment. Part of him hoped that the boy had lost the gifts he'd drilled into him. He'd always intended that his son would become a police officer. With a gun, and back up and the law on his side. What Shawn was doing now... it wasn't safe.

But... Shawn needed this.

"Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Shawn asked.

"You'll see." Henry headed to the door.

"Dad? I'm kind of... not dressed. Not to mention I have Lassie and Gus hiding from you in my bedroom."

"Oh. Right." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Give me a minute."

* * *

Shawn went into the bedroom and found Lassiter and Gus trying to look innocent.

"So, I take it you two both had your ears to the door?"

"What?"

"No, of course not!"

"Why would we?"

The two men stumbled over each other, explaining.

"Whatever. Dad is apparently babysitting today, so Gus, you go work at your real job, and Lassie, you go actually relax with the time off you've got."

Gus and Lassiter exchanged a long look. They weren't comfortable leaving Shawn with Henry. It's not that Henry couldn't protect Shawn, it's that Shawn was...vulnerable. They doubted that Henry would be able to deal with that.

"Wait. My real job?" Gus asked, suddenly noting what Shawn had said.

"Yeah, you know. Pharmaceutical salesman." Shawn said, rummaging in his closet for clean clothes.

"Shawn, you always say Psych is my real job. That pharmaceutical salesman is just a side job."

"Yeah, well. I've been thinking." Shawn said. "We can talk about it later." He went into the bathroom.

Lassiter and Gus exchanged a long nervous look.

* * *

Shawn was soon dressed and leaving with Henry. Shawn was silent the entire trip. That scared Henry more than he would ever admit. His son wasn't the strong silent type. He talked and talked and asked questions constantly. But here was Shawn, on a Magical Mystery Tour with his Dad of all peopled, and he doesn't even speak up to ask where the hell they're going. Henry pulled up at a gas station.

"Go on inside. Buy a coffee or something. I need to make a phone call, and fill up the truck." Henry ordered; his voice brusque. Shawn simply did as he was told in silence. His father sighed and scrubbed a frustrated hand across his face. How many times had he prayed for Shawn to just shut up and listen? For his son to do as he was told? But Shawn never did. He questioned _everything_ and only did what he wanted, and that was part of the kid's questionable charm. He filled up the truck, and made his phone call.

Shawn made his way back to the pumps, and silently handed his father a Styrofoam cup. He had a second one in his hand, which he sipped slowly. Henry was almost disappointed that the kid hadn't ransacked the candy shelves for 'road trip essentials'.

"Get in."

Shawn complied without any comment.

Oh yeah. This was bad.

They drove for a while, and then finally came to a stop outside...

"A laser-quest?" Shawn asked, incredulous.

"It's one of these 'cop for a day' places." Henry sighed. "You remember Detective Anderson? He and his kid run the place."

"And we're here, why?"

"Because you're losing it, kid. And I will_ not_ permit that."

"Excuse me? You will not permit?" So there was still a spark of life in the kid after all.

"I will not let you waste your God given talents, or the years of time and effort that I put into training you. You've already squandered them enough, the way you mess around, and do whatever you feel like, completely ignoring the consequences. You're finally, _finally_¸ using what I gave you, and I will _not_ let some criminal scum ruin that. Ruin you."

Shawn just stared at his father, shocked. The venom in Henry's voice... He didn't realise that Henry's anger wasn't truly aimed at him, but at the people who had hurt him. Shawn was just a convenient target.

Henry ignored the stare and got out of the truck. Shawn followed suit. He watched the older man head towards the building, but didn't join him, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"Shawn!"

He sighed and scuffed his shoe across the dirt, but came to his father's call.

* * *

Two hours later...

Shawn strode out of the building, with a disgruntled Henry following along.

"It doesn't really prove anything." Shawn's head was down, hiding the glint of humour in his eyes.

"You solved it in two hours. 2 HOURS, Shawn!"

"So? It's meant to be solved. It's set up for people to win."

"You smashed their records. All of them!" Henry was annoyed. "And they didn't put you on the easy case! That was their most advanced scenario, usually aimed at a group over more than one day! It's only been solved ten times!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Henry sighed.

"So, I'm like, kind of awesome right now?"

"Don't let it go to your head, kid." He ruffled Shawn's hair as they got to the truck, before going around to the driver's side.

Henry drove Shawn to the next stop on his little magical mystery tour. When they pulled up in front of a cafe, Shawn rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming. Henry got out and waited. Shawn winced a little as he got up. His back wasn't really up to the constant pressure that came with riding around in his dad's truck. They got a booth and sat down, ordering drinks.

"Okay, kid. How many hats?"

"Seriously? We're doing this?"

"I know you, Shawn. And as much as you like to pretend you think you're the best thing since sliced bread, I know that this has hit you hard. I know it will take more than one little thing to get you back on your A game. So yes, Shawn. We are doing this. And we will continue to do this until I am convinced that you can protect yourself." Henry snapped.

"Fine." He shook out a pain pill from the little orange bottle. The dose was two, but he didn't want his thoughts all clouded. He put it on the napkin beside his drink, but didn't take it yet.

Shawn raised his hand to his temple. He closed his eyes.

"How many hats?"

"Seven."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. Tell it to me."

"Five paper hats, one on each waitress and waiter and one on the chef. A ball cap on the kid in the next booth, and a cowboy hat on the guy near the back."

"You missed one."

"What?" Shawn opened his eyes and looked around, shocked. He had. He'd missed an older woman wearing a church hat with fruit on it. "How the heck did I miss that?"

"I don't know." Henry looked at his son and sighed. He'd noticed his son wasn't quite right earlier at the cop for a day place. Shawn had mostly been brilliant, as per usual. But a couple of times, he'd got this distant look in his eye and had missed things so obvious a two year old would have spotted them.

"Try me again." Shawn said. He closed his eyes.

"What's our waitress's name?"

"Brandy." Shawn replied instantly.

"What drinks are in the next booth?"

"Two cherry cokes and a vanilla milkshake. Who drinks vanilla milkshake?"

"Shawn, focus. What's the cowboy do for a living?"

"He's..." Shawn shook his head. "I know it, I know I do...but..."

"He's a US Marshal."

Shawn opened his eyes, and took the pain pill with a long swallow of his drink.

"Why can't I do this?"

"You can. You've proved that. But something's blocking you."

"What? Something's blocking me? You sound like me when I'm making up excuses."

"I mean... you were fine until you started thinking about what happened." Henry shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?"Shawn said, rubbing at the fading marks on his wrists, left by the rope. It was an absent minded motion, and Henry was pretty sure the kid wasn't even aware of what he was doing. "I wasn't..."

"You were. It might not have been a conscious thing."

"But I wasn't."

"Okay, so it's a coincidence that you blocked two things. A woman wearing a silly hat who was reading about your case in the local newspaper. It looks like they've announced the date for the trial. You'll probably have a note waiting for you at your place. And a man who is a cop, and has a large length of rope visible in his shopping bags, along with a set of bamboo poles. He's got some other stuff in there, and I'm assuming he's gardening, but..."

"There's a hole in your theory!" Shawn pointed out. "I saw his hat!"

"Yeah. But that's because the shopping bags were obscured by Brandy at that point. I only noticed after you opened your eyes after counting hats."

"Shit." Shawn said. "I... I didn't even realise I was doing it."

"Shawn, it's understandable. If you didn't have PTSD I would be worried." Henry shook his head and gulped his drink. "This is just something you're going to have to work past, sooner rather than later. You can't function effectively if you're not noticing this stuff."

"I know." Shawn replied.

"Hey, Brandy!" Henry called. "Can we get two of your chocolate brownies with ice cream? Thanks Hun!"

"You got it, Doll." The waitress waved an acknowledgement.

"Cake? But I was wrong."

"Sometimes it's not about right or wrong, Shawn. Sometimes it's about the fight itself."

* * *

**So, what do you think? I'm trying to be nicer to Henry. Really, I am. **


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter goes out to Finder The Keeper. The bit about the kitten was inspired by their review. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but i figured a crap update is better than no update. **

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Henry drove Shawn back to his apartment and dropped him off, not leaving until he saw the boy go inside and close the door behind him.

Lassiter was there waiting for him. The Detective had been home and packed a bag, since he wasn't planning on leaving Shawn alone for the duration, and then he'd gone to a doctor's appointment. He was healing nicely, and they told him he could go back to work (on light duty and pending a psych eval) in a week.

"The trial is set to start on Monday."He said.

"Oh." Shawn went and sat down on the couch, feeling a little light headed.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have just hit you with it." Lassiter apologised. He went to sit by Shawn. "You okay?"

"I think so. I screwed up."

"What do you mean?"

" I'm missing things. Things that should be obvious. I miscounted hats!"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a stupid training exercise. A game. I've been doing it since I was about three, and I counted wrong."

"It's not the end of the world. You're on heavy painkillers and you've been through a nasty shock. It's not surprising you're a little bit off."

"A little bit off!" Shawn laughed. "I'm missing things. Important things. They could have killed us last night! I didn't see them."

"Shawn. Calm down. We're fine. We're alive." Lassiter shook him gently, trying to get through to him. He'd forgotten for a moment that Shawn's back was still healing. He released Shawn's shoulders at his wince. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

They sat there, in silence, both thinking.

* * *

Gus found them there that evening when he stopped by.

"Hey." He came over and sat in the armchair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Shawn said, and summoned up a smile.

"The trial starts on Monday." Lassie put in, knowing that that was what was really bothering Shawn. He'd managed to neatly dodge the subject earlier.

"Oh." Gus thought for a moment. "Will you have to testify?"

"Definitely." Lassiter sighed. "We've both been given notice." He pointed to some letters sitting on the table. "Both the prosecution and the defence want us as witnesses. You've probably got one as well."

"Wonderful." It was Gus's turn to sigh. "What about the note from last night? Any news?"

"No. Forensics has nothing."

"Wonderful." Gus repeated. They all felt so helpless. It wasn't a good feeling.

"I want to quit Psych." Shawn said, completely out of the blue.

"WHAT!" Lassiter and Gus said at once. They were both shocked beyond belief.

"Well, Gus doesn't like Psych. He wants to have more time for his pharmaceutical sales. And I keep being stupid. I'm supposed to be smart, but I keep being really, really, dumb." Shawn was slurring his words a little, and Lassie and Gus exchanged a glance.

"Spencer, are you drunk?" Lassiter sighed.

"You called me Spencer." Shawn said, in a small, hurt voice.

"Shawn, have you drunk any alcohol?" Gus asked, carefully.

"Silly Gus-Face. No, I'm not drunk. I just had two teeny weeny pain pills."

"Two pain pills? Just now when you went and got a glass of juice?" Lassiter asked. That was only about twenty minutes ago.

"Yup." He smiled. "It's weird, because it's making me feel all warm and fuzzy. The ones I had earlier didn't make me feel like this."

"You had more pills earlier?" Gus checked.

"Yeah. My back hurt. I kept screwing up. And Dad took me to a cop for a day place where I had to run around and stuff, and it hurt. So I took one in the diner, after I couldn't count hats."

"Wait. You couldn't count hats?" Gus sounded really freaked out, and Lassiter shot him a glare.

"Uh huh. Got it wrong. Got it all wrong. And my back still hurt, so I took another two pills, when I got in."

"Shawn, how many pills have you taken today?" Lassiter asked carefully.

"I... I don't know." His eyes were clouded, but there was a hint of fear. "Why don't I know? I always know. Why can't I do anything right?" He was close to tears.

"He must have overdosed." Gus sighed. "He hates painkillers just for this reason. He almost died after his bike crash because of them."

"What do you mean?"

"He can't think right on medication. Usually it's not a problem, because he avoids painkillers because he hates his brain being messed up. He probably only took them because he was feeling down." Gus punched the arm of the chair. "Damn it. I knew I should have tried to get him on anti depressants."

"Anti depressants? Shawn?"

"Yeah. I think he should be on them but there's no way he'll go for it." Gus shook his head.

"Hey. 'Scuse me. But I can't feel my tongue. Tha's not a good thing." Shawn said, looking up at them.

"Ambulance?" Lassiter asked.

"Ambulance." Gus nodded and reached for the phone.

* * *

The paramedics arrived swiftly, and Shawn was soon sitting on a hospital bed.

"He's going to be fine." A young, blonde doctor said. "He barely overdosed. Just one or two pills more than he should. I'm actually surprised it affected him so badly."

"He's always been sensitive to medication." Gus put in. Shawn's sensitivity was one of the reasons he'd gone into pharmaceuticals. "He gave the doctors a fright when we were kids. They nearly killed him with the standard dose of anaesthetic."

"Well, as long as he sticks to the prescribed dose, he should be fine." The doctor smiled.

"Thank you." Lassiter said, and the two men went to sit at Shawn's bedside.

"Hey, Shawn. How're you doing?" Gus asked.

"They made me eat coal, and pumped out my stomach." He pulled a 'yucky face'.

"What were you thinking? You could have killed yourself." Lassiter crossed his arms and glared.

"I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. I only took one or two more than I should have. My back hurt, and I was fed up, and things just kept getting worse."

"I get that, I guess. But you need to be more careful."

"I will."

"Shawn, are you... are you sure you're alright? Usually you avoid taking these things like the plague." Gus checked.

"I just wanted it to stop hurting." It was barely a whisper, and Gus and Carlton exchanged worried glances.

"Vick set you up with the department therapist?" Lassie asked.

"Yeah."

"And he's been avoiding the appointments." Gus added, with a scowl.

"Hey, I've been in therapy since I was in pampers, it's not going to help."

"It might. If you let it." Lassiter said, tentatively. He hated that he had to be tentative. This Shawn was so breakable, fragile like a snowglobe, ready to break apart at the slightest pressure. The old Shawn, you could slam into walls and say what you like, he was always fine.

"I don't..."

"Shawn, it's not weak to accept help." Gus got right to the heart of the matter. "And if your Dad asks why you're going to therapy, we'll say the Chief made you do it."

Shawn laughed a little at that.

"Yeah, for someone who used to be married to one, he sure doesn't respect psychologists."

"Alright, Mr Spencer." The perky blonde doctor said, re-entering the room. "you're all set. As this was an accidental overdose, we won't be keeping you in. But, I want you to be more careful with those pills. As cute as it is, I don't want to see your butt back here in two days because you can't read the label."

"I'll be good, I promise." Shawn said, flirting outrageously.

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear."

"Okay, then you're free to go." Shawn threw off the bedclothes and headed straight for the door. "Mr Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"Clothes?"

"Oh, right."

Gus and Lassiter both snorted, as Shawn headed back into the room to get dressed.

* * *

When they got back to Shawn's apartment, they found Buzz and Francine waiting for them. The young officer had taken LGC to the vets for them, just to make sure the bullet wound wasn't more serious than they thought. They could hear the kitten singing her displeasure from within a cat basket at the couples feet.

"Shawn! Carlton! Burton!" Francine called out. "How are you? Shawn, you're looking awfully pale. What happened?"

"I'm okay, Francie." Shawn smiled. He moved forward and got the front door open. "Come on in."

When they got inside, and the door was shut behind them, Buzz released the kitten. She was sporting a brand new bandage down her side and a couple of stitches in her ear. She shook her head, and fluffed out her fur, growling at the humans who had dared imprison her.

"How is she?" Lassiter asked, stepping back warily as the cat decided his feet were the perfect target for her ire.

"The vet said she's going to be fine. She's a little older than you guessed, apparently she's nearly nine weeks. She's only so small because she's a little mal-nourished, and the vet said she was probably the runt of the litter to begin with." Buzz said.

"She was very good, and we had her vaccinated while we were there." Francine added.

"And she's really a she?" Gus checked.

"Yeah." Buzz laughed, shaking his head. "We got him to double check."

"Hey!" Shawn acted insulted, as he sprawled, exhausted, onto the couch. "You get a cat's gender wrong one time..."

"One time?" Lassiter asked, raising an eyebrow. Shawn stared at him.

_He wouldn't dare... would he? _

"What about that stripper in Vegas?" Lassiter finished, with a smirk.

_Yep. He would._

_

* * *

_**Thoughts? opinions? **


	7. Chapter 7

**This is a bit of a weird chapter. Sorry, I just don't seem to be as motivated for this story at the moment as i should be.**

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* * *

**

After Lassie's snide comment about the stripper, everyone stared. For precisely twelve seconds, there was absolute silence, save the meows and growls from the kitten still valiantly attacking Lassiter's feet. Then a barrage of questions assaulted Shawn from every quarter.

"What?"

"When did-?"

"Why didn't I-?"

"QUIET!" Francine shouted. She perched beside Shawn on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You leave poor Shawnie alone." She glared. "Here sweetie, have a cookie." She pulled a Tupperware container from nowhere and removed the lid, offering it to Shawn. He took one unashamedly.

"Thanks, Francie." He chewed happily. She waited until the cookie had vanished entirely and then smiled a saccharine smile.

"Now, Shawnie, I'm sure you're tired. I know I am. How about a bedtime story about your adventures? Maybe from when you were in Vegas...?"

Shawn grinned, knowing that she was trying to manipulate him.

"Well..." He said, and they all leaned in. He was a good story teller, and he knew it. He also had a seemingly unending supply of true stories from his world travels. "If I'm going to be telling a story, I'll need some coffee, and another cookie." Immediately Lassiter went to the kitchen, to set a pot to boil. He was desperately curious about what had happened in Vegas.

* * *

Gus got himself settled on the floor, hugging a pillow to his chest. Shawn couldn't suppress a smile, as Buzz joined the other man on the carpet. He felt like a primary school teacher at story time. This was reinforced by Francine handing out one cookie the each of them and warning them they'd rot their teeth. LGC jumped up into Shawn's lap and curled into a warm purring ball.

"Looks like a Tribble." Gus observed.

"A what?" Shawn asked, head tilted.

"A ball of fluff that doesn't like Klingons." Buzz explained, and he and Gus exchanged Geek-Love.

"Tribble." Francine said, looking at the kitten. "I like it. I think it suits her."

"Better than LGC?" Shawn pouted.

"LGC is a wonderful name." She reassured and petted his arm. "But it's a bit formal, maybe. It would be like calling you Big Man Shawn. Tribble can be her nickname, maybe?" She held out another cookie, and Shawn reached for it. She drew it back with a twinkle in her eye, waiting for his answer.

"Tribble? I think it's a wonderful nickname." He rolled his eyes.

Lassiter soon came and joined them, sitting in the armchair, and handing out coffee to everyone. It was getting quite late, already pitch black outside.

"So?" Gus asked, after they'd all stared at Shawn for awhile, waiting for him to start.

"You really want to hear about that?" Shawn asked, teasingly, running a hand through Tribble's fur.

Before... well everything, Lassiter would have made a sarcastic remark. He would have suggested that Shawn get on with the story, or he'd introduce him to his gun. But now? Shawn was so breakable, and threats from a cop, even Lassie, had a deeper resonance. So, instead he just waited, and when Shawn met his gaze, he raised an eyebrow. Shawn smiled.

"I was maybe twenty? And I had been all over the place. I'd just got back from Thailand, and I wanted to go somewhere decadent. Vegas, it felt right. So I rode there on my bike, and I went to a casino. The Montecito. It was beautiful." He grinned. "I played some poker, some black jack, and then they decided I had to be cheating. They dragged me off to some kind of interrogation room."

"You're kidding!" Francine gasped.

"Nope, I swear it looked just like the ones at the station."

"In a casino?" Gus raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Yeah." Lassiter said, surprising them all. "Casino security are cops in everything but the name. They often have forensics departments too."

"Yeah. They couldn't prove anything though. I convinced them I was just on a really good streak."

"and were you?" Buzz asked. "Cheating I mean."

"No. Well, I can't help it if I psychically read the cards. The visions rule me, I do not rule the visions."

Lassiter translated this to 'I counted cards'.

"What happened then?" Gus asked, through a mouthful of cookie. He'd sneaked one from the box while the attention was elsewhere.

"Well, they comp-ed my dinner, and the scary guy in charge, Ed, he chatted with me for a while, and I pointed out some holes in their system. He was quite grateful, I saved him a great deal of trouble. He gave me free tickets to this show. It was at one of the better clubs and I thought it would be fun, you know? I went with one of the security guys, Mitch. He was good fun. There was this one stripper who was coming on to me shamelessly, and we got to talking. She was a real nice lady, and she was telling me all about the law degree she was working on. We got on well, and she suggested we get together after her shift for a drink."

"And did you?" Lassiter asked.

"Oh, yeah. We had more than one drink, and we flirted a bit. She walked back with me to the motel I was staying at, and I kissed her. She kissed me back, and we went into my room. We were starting to get into it, when she says 'Stop!' I stop, of course. I didn't know what was wrong. I was worried I'd hurt her or something."

"What happened?" Francine asked.

"She explained. She was a pre-op transsexual. I never would have guessed. She was beautiful. In fact, I didn't believe, I started ranting that if she didn't want to have sex with me, just to say so. I called her a couple of names and she slapped me across the face." Gus laughed a little at that. "She grabbed my hand and put it on... um... the evidence that proved what she said."

The group of listeners laughed at that. Shawn blushed a little.

"She's had the operation now. Changed her name, and is a practicing Public Defender." He smiled. "And I'm still in touch with most of the security staff at the Montecito, too."

"You never cease to amaze me." Lassiter said quietly, with a smile. Shawn smiled back, a little shy.

Lassie couldn't help wondering if Shawn was skipping over something though. The way he went from the stripper putting Shawn's hand on her... his... package, to saying they were still in touch.

"Oh gosh, Buzz! It's late! We should really be going." Francine said. She kissed Shawn's cheek. "You take care of yourself, you hear? We love you, Shawnie." She handed him the cookies. "But you're getting far too skinny. Feed that little butt back up, I don't want to be seeing your ribs. And come by for a nice fattening dinner soon, alright?"

"Francie, I've been eating." Shawn protested.

"Not enough. And I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thrown some of it back up." She ruffled his hair. "You two, take care of him. Make sure he eats." She pulled Buzz to his feet and the two of them left.

"You really think Shawn's been puking up his food?" Buzz asked his wife as they got in their car.

"I'm afraid so, sweetie. It's not uncommon. You know that we had a foster child at the school who had been badly abused?"

"Yeah." The case had really affected his sensitive wife. She had come home in tears over her poor student more than once.

"I did some research when I found him throwing up the few mouthfuls of food he'd managed to choke down. Victims often exhibit self destructive behaviours. I hope he isn't doing anything worse."

Buzz made a silent oath that he'd keep a better eye on Shawn and do all he could to protect his friend.

* * *

Inside Lassiter and Gus were both trying to covertly study Shawn. Neither had noticed the weight loss, but now that they really looked at Shawn, they saw that he was, indeed, skinnier. And Shawn hadn't had much weight to lose. He'd always been closer to thin than plump.

"Yes, I've lost weight. But not much, and not for lack of eating." Shawn said, rolling his eyes at their obviousness.

"Shawn..."They both started and trailed off at once, and then exchanged startled looks.

"The antibiotics make me nauseous." Shawn shrugged. "And the pain pills make me dopey. And the mix of both of them with my immunosuppressants is having some side effects too. Plus, I hardly ate anything in hospital, 'cos yuck. It's understandable that I'd lose a little weight."

Lassiter and Gus both spent a minute weighing up the truthfulness of that statement.

"Fine." Gus said eventually, knowing that the drug interactions were possible and would probably effect his drug sensitive friend worse than they would others. "But I took the liberty of calling and making you an appointment with the psychiatrist for tomorrow. You're going to go, and you're going to behave."

"Fine." Shawn pouted, and pulled a cookie from the Tupperware. "No cookies for you!"

"And you're going to make an appointment with Dr Foster to see about changing your meds." Lassiter said, in a no nonsense tone.

"Alright." Shawn rolled his eyes. He'd do it, but only because it would take his mind off of the upcoming trial. "I'm going to bed." He stood up, and as he did an ache in his belly reminded him that he'd had his stomach pumped that afternoon. God, he hated taking medication. He always had, from when he was a little kid. His mom used to hide them in food to make sure he took them. His dad just explained that if he didn't take them, first off, he'd be grounded, and secondly, he'd probably die a slow and horrible death. Way to get the five year old to take his pills!

* * *

He went through to the bathroom and got changed slowly, giving himself a long sponge bath. He wasn't allowed a shower until the stitches came out, and they weren't out yet. He brushed his teeth, and washed his face. Shaved. Used the toilet. And then, finally he faced his reflection. He'd never been overly bothered by the scar. Chicks dig scars, and it made him look cool. He traced the fine, pinkish-white line down his sternum. He'd only been ashamed of it once or twice.

The scar on his shoulder from where he'd _binshot_ was darker, more vivid. It was a deep purple-y colour, and the skin around it was still slightly puckered.

He had a faint scar on his temple too, this one barely visible, although it had bled so much at the time, he'd been terrified. He had other scars on his head, but they were covered by his elabourate hair style.

There was the scar on his leg, where the bone had poked through after his motorbike accident. He remembered driving in the dark, and then headlights rushing towards him. A warning shouted too late by the passenger to the driver (both drunk, and high on a shared spliff). Brakes squealing, glass breaking, then pain. He remembered lying there, twisted at the side of the road and watching the green of the grass slowly become red in the light of the headlamps. The next thing he knew it was three weeks later and his Dad was by his hospital bed. Which was annoying because he'd been up in Vermont, avoiding his father at all costs. He'd never bothered to change his next of kin notification (he had since then, they were supposed to call Gus).

There were other scars. Some from accidents, some not. He'd never realised how many he had. More than many active cops, or soldiers.

The ones on his back, they were reminders he didn't need or want. He had a picture perfect memory, and the sight of the hamburger his back had been made into just brought the images back into stark focus. He didn't need that.

And it was strange, because none of his other scars made him feel like that. Not even the one from being shot. Well, except for the thin white line on his throat. The line that you wouldn't even notice if you didn't know to look for it.

He sighed. He couldn't stop looking at them. Examining the marks on his body. Each one had a story, and each one had changed him. He couldn't stop thinking that Truman had left his mark on him, and wondering how he'd ever feel clean again.

"Stop it." He muttered. "You have a mark from... from before... and you didn't let it do this to you. And that was worse than this."

Although, the mark from before was nearly invisible. He didn't have to think about it. These new scars, they were too... too... they were visible, in a way that made Shawn uncomfortable. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to stand there in his bathroom twisting so he could see the brands on his skin. He didn't want to feel sick at the sight of his naked body.

But he did. And that was that.

* * *

**Anyone who gets the Montecito reference gets one of Francine's virtual cookies. Sorry about the bleak turn towards the end. I hope that I didn't make anyone who has scars and is self concious about them uncomfortable. And I hope I didn't make anyone feel self concious about their scars when they weren't before. I'm not trying to imply scars are gross or a bad thing, Shawn's issues stem not from the scars, but from the rape and molestation he's suffered. **

**Scars are cool. They're badges of honour and we should wear them proudly. **


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter goes out to AchillesMonkey for trying to educate the uneducated. Also as an apology for the preaching nature of my reply to the review. Sorry about that.**

**Also, to Toadflame. Scarred klutzes of the world unite!**

* * *

Shawn refused to lay down on the couch.

"Mr Spencer?"

"It's Shawn."

"Of course. I'm Dr Stevenage. Edward."

"Nice to meet you, Doc."

"Now, I understand from the Chief that you've been through a traumatic event recently."

"Is that what you call it?"

"It is. I also understand form Mr Guster that you are dislike therapy, and that you are not here entirely of your free will."

"My Mom is a Psychologist. She had me in therapy since practically before I could talk."

"Ah, I understand. Your friend Mr Guster also insisted that you saw a doctor who could prescribe medicine if it was necessary. I'm a psychiatrist, not a psychologist."

"Typical Gus. He thinks pills solve everything."

"What do you think?"

"I think they help, sometimes. Hell, pills have saved my life more than once, but I think that most of the time drugs are a band aid, when the wound is festering underneath."

"Interesting." He made a note on his clipboard.

"What is it with the note taking? Do you know how off putting it is?"

"I have been told." The doctor replied ruefully. "Did your mother take notes a lot?"

"No need. She had what she calls an eidetic tonal memory."

"Meaning, I suppose, that she remembers everything she hears?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have an eidetic memory?" It would certainly explain some of what the Chief had said...

"Yeah, visual though, not tonal."

"Ah." He made another note.

* * *

There was a long drawn out silence. Shawn was waiting for another question, the doctor for Shawn to take control of the conversation.

"Do you have electro-shock here? And do they still do lobotomies?"

"We do use electro shock, very occasionally. It's usually used in cases of seizure, now a days. As for lobotomies, no. We don't do that."

"Good. Because I really didn't want to end up like Jack Nicholson in _Coockoo's Nest_."

Another painful silence followed.

"What do you expect to get out of these sessions, Shawn?"

"Expect? Not much."

"Okay, what do you hope, then? What do you want?"

"I want not to be afraid. To be able to think clearly again. To not..."

"To not what?"

"To not be here."

"Shawn."

"Shouldn't you be more worried about what the Chief wants? What Gus wants?"

"Ah, well, no, not really. Our practice routinely consults with the SBPD, and Chief Vick only gave us the file and said that you had to complete a mandatory course of therapy before being allowed to return to work. Mr Guster, he believed it would be best if someone was on hand who could medicate you, because he seems to have great faith in drugs. What he didn't know is that I'd be the one treating you anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"I take any cases that deal with rape. On any level."

"I wasn't raped."

"you were molested. You were forced into sexual acts. That is rape."

"It wasn't rape. Rape is...worse." Shawn was surprising himself with how truthful he was being. "Why do you take the rape cases? You some sort of pervert?"

"No. At least, I don't think so." He gave a humourless smile. "I was raped when I was a teenager."

* * *

Juliet looked across at her partner's desk. Lassiter had come in today, even though he wasn't supposed to. But, all he'd done was a little bit of paperwork, so she wasn't going to complain. And the Chief had seen him, and hadn't kicked him out, so she wasn't going to say anything. She glanced towards the door, and was surprised to see Gus walk in, and head towards her desk.

"Hey, Jules."

"Hey, Gus. How are you?"

"Alright. Shawn's got his first appointment with the psychiatrist today. I couldn't concentrate."

"That explains a lot." Juliet looked pointedly at Lassiter, and Gus frowned when he saw who she was looking at.

"What's he doing here?"

"Same thing you are, I guess."

"Hmm."

"Shawn will be fine. I'm sure of it."

* * *

"I have your hospital records here."

"Yeah? Good reading? Does it come with pretty pictures?"

"You overdosed."

"Yeah. It was an accident."

"Maybe." The doctor allowed.

"What do you get out of this, doc?"

"I like helping people."

"Yeah. Sure. Do you get your rocks off listening to people tell you about their rape?"

"No. After I was raped, everyone was telling me they understood. That it was okay to be angry, that I should be upset. But they didn't know, they couldn't. But I do."

Shawn looked at him for a long moment, not sure what to say. He had been expecting to be told off, or to get an insult for an insult. This brutal honesty... he didn't know what to do with that.

The worst part was, he understood. The doc had hit how he felt on the head. He still remembered how angry he'd felt when Lassiter had claimed he'd understood what Shawn was going through.

"Shawn?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?" Shawn looked up to find the Doctor standing by him, a hand on his arm. He hadn't even noticed him approach. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I..."Shawn shook his head. For the first time in a long time he had no idea what to say.

"Shawn?" Doctor Stevenage was really getting worried about Shawn. He'd been sitting there in silence for about ten minutes, just staring into the middle distance. The Doctor was worried he'd slipped into a flashback or something. "Shawn, say something."

"I... I'm fine." He shook his head. "How can... how can you just talk about it? Make it part of your life? It belongs hidden away in a dark drawer at the back of your mind. One that you never open."

"Repression does have its uses." The doctor replied, amused. "But denial isn't healthy. I think you know that."

"It's worked so far."

"All of three weeks? Yeah, you're a real expert."It had just the right amount of sarcasm.

"Weeks? Try years!" Shawn snapped back without thinking. His brain to mouth filter seemed to be malfunctioning. As soon as he realised what he'd said, his mouth slammed shut with a resounding crack and he went pale.

"Shawn? Years?" The doctor looked flustered, and knelt down beside Shawn's chair. He put his hand on Shawn's arm, but Shawn drew back from the touch. "Shawn, talk to me. Are you alright?"

But this time Shawn had slipped into a flashback. He was remembering the first time he was raped, all those years ago. His hand came up and absently traced along the pale line of his throat.

* * *

_Shawn had been travelling for almost a year. His bike had finally broken down. It had needed a tune up before he'd left... before he'd run away. And almost constant use for a whole year had pretty much buggered it up good. He walked along the highway, wheeling the bike alongside him. It was getting dark, and he was tired. There was no way he could get to the nearest town before it got too dark to carry on. He sighed and turned left, walking a short way away from the road. _

_Several minutes later, while Shawn was trying to set up a makeshift camp, a truck rolled by. It's headlights reflected of the bike. It pulled up a little way up the road and a large man got out. _

"_Hey, kid. You alright?"_

"_Yeah, my bike just packed in."_

"_Well, you can't stay out here. It gets mighty cold at night." _

"_I don't really have a choice." Shawn folded his arms and scowled defensively._

"_Why don't you come and spend the night with me? The missus 'ud love the company."_

"_I couldn't."_

"_We live not far off, and me brother owns a garage. He can fix up your bike for you."_

"_Really, I'm alright."_

"_I can't just leave you here by yourself. If something happened, then I wouldn't forgive myself."_

"_Well..."_

"_Come on, kid. The wife's a wonderful cook. We'll feed you up." _

_All of his father's warnings were reverberating around his head, but Shawn was fed up with being the good boy. He'd been careful, always so careful. But he was tired and cold and hungry. He could take care of himself. The guy didn't seem creepy or anything, and Shawn knew enough to defend himself. _

_He got in the truck._

"Shawn! Shawn? Can you hear me? Are you alright? Shawn..."

* * *

**WARNING! LISTEN UP, 'COS I'M ONLY GOING TO SAY THIS TWICE. **

**THE NEXT CHAPTER CONTAINS A GRAPHIC FLASHBACK TO THE FIRST TIME SHAWN WAS RAPED. IT'S EXPLICIT AND RATED M. IT'S SO DETAILED BECAUSE DURING 4 O'CLOCK I WAS ASKED FOR A MORE GRAPHIC RAPE. I ALREADY KNEW SHAWN HAD BEEN RAPED BEFORE IN MY CONTINUITY, AND IT MAKES SENSE FOR HIM TO FLASHBACK TO IT. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU, SKIP OVER THE NEXT CHAPTER. IT CAN BE PARAPHRASED AS "AND THEN SHAWN WAS VIOLENTLY AND GRAPHICALLY RAPED AND THE GUY HELD A KNIFE TO HIS NECK, LEAVING THE SCAR HE ANGSTED OVER A CHAPTER OR SO AGO." **


	9. Chapter 9

**WARNING! LISTEN UP. **

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A GRAPHIC FLASHBACK TO THE FIRST TIME SHAWN WAS RAPED. IT'S EXPLICIT AND RATED M. IT'S SO DETAILED BECAUSE DURING 4 O'CLOCK I WAS ASKED FOR A MORE GRAPHIC RAPE. I ALREADY KNEW SHAWN HAD BEEN RAPED BEFORE IN MY CONTINUITY, AND IT MAKES SENSE FOR HIM TO FLASHBACK TO IT. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU, SKIP OVER THE NEXT CHAPTER. IT CAN BE PARAPHRASED AS "AND THEN SHAWN WAS VIOLENTLY AND GRAPHICALLY RAPED AND THE GUY HELD A KNIFE TO HIS NECK, LEAVING THE SCAR HE ANGSTED OVER A CHAPTER OR SO AGO." YOU WON'T MISS ANYTHING IMPORTANT. JUST AS LONG AS YOU KNOW HE HAD A FLASHBACK TO THE RAPE.**

**This is for CrazyAboutStabler. **

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* * *

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_The truck drove along the dark country road, out in the middle of nowhere. There was a motor bike loaded into the back and a young man sleeping in the passenger seat. In the driver's seat, there was a maniac. He kept shooting glances at his prey. He pulled up to a house. It was huge and dark, and falling apart. The driver climbed out and slammed the door behind him. He walked around to the boy's side, and opened the door. There was a knife in the hunter's hand and he pressed it to the boy's throat. _

_Greenish eyes opened, sluggishly. _

"_Wh-what's going on?"_

"_We're going to go inside now. And you're going to do exactly as I say." He pressed the blade more firmly into his throat. Blood began to flow, and the younger man gasped. "Or I'll slit your throat."_

"_Why?" _

"_Because I want to fuck you. And I know you want it. I saw you looking at me, and I saw what a slut you were. You were half hard and chatting up everything with legs."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_In the bar. You saw me. And I saw you. Hustling pool, and shaking your ass."_

_He pulled Shawn out of the truck and dragged him towards the house. _

"_My motorbike?"_

"_A little harmless sabotage. It's easy to make it look like wear and tear if you know what you're doing." He dragged him over into the house. It was dark and dank and cluttered. _

"_Dude, you know you're totally pandering to the serial killer stereotype? Do you have your mother stuffed in the attic? And where's all the taxidermy?"_

"_You're funny, Shawn. I like that." Shawn's whole body stiffened. _

"_You know my name?" _

"_I think everyone in the bar knew your name, kid. What with those guys chanting 'Shawn, Shawn, Shawn' while you kicked ass at pool."_

"_Oh. Right." Shawn felt stupid and embarrassed. Although, it's not like he needed to show off, the only one who could see him was the crazy guy with the knife. And he wasn't going to be telling anyone that Shawn had said something stupid. _

"_This way." He dragged Shawn up the stairs. Shawn was getting scared and he wanted to fight, he wanted to fight so badly, and he could hear his heart beating and could feel it pumping the blood from his throat. He couldn't fight. The knife, it was pressed against his jugular and was sharp enough to kill him with ease._

"_Did you know that it takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin?" Shawn said. "I'm just telling you because you might want to go easy with the knife. You know. I mean, you don't want a dead toy, do you?"_

"_Smart too. Got myself a keeper."_

_The knife didn't ease off._

_

* * *

_

_They went into a musty bedroom with a large messy four poster bed in it. It was unmade, and the sheets were stained with things that Shawn didn't want to think about. Suddenly, the knife was gone from his throat, and he automatically lunged forward. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and he choked, as he was harshly pulled backward. _

"_Aht! That's enough of that." He slammed a huge meaty fist into the side of Shawn's head, knocking him dizzy, and then he threw the discombobulated man onto the bed. Before Shawn could move, his hands were bound with thick rope, each separately tied to the bed head. His feet were tied likewise to the foot of the bed. But, unlike his arms, his legs were bent at the knee. _

_He knew he could get out of them, if he could get enough slack. If he could get his hands or his mouth on the knots. But he just wasn't sure if he could manage that. Why couldn't it have been handcuffs! Handcuffs were easy. Ropes were difficult to get out of if they were tied right. And these were definitely tied right. He couldn't reach the knots, no way, no how. _

_While he'd been contemplating the nut-jobs ropemanship...(he could just hear Gus telling him that ropemanship wasn't a real word)... he hadn't noticed that said nut-job had stripped down to nothing. He was standing there in his birthday suit with an impressive, leaking erection proudly displayed. Shawn swallowed. _

_The knife came down and lightly traced over Shawn's throat. The blood was still flowing freely from the long thin cut and it spilled onto the blade. The knife carefully tickled across his skin, slitting the neck of the T Shirt he was wearing. It carried on down, parting the cloth until it finally passed through the hem. Then, it came up to slice through the sleeves. The material was torn away so Shawn's torso was nude. One fat finger stroked up and down his sternum, running over the surgery scar. It was replaced by a thick tongue, lapping. Shawn closed his eyes as the mouth came up to suck along the open wound on his throat, licking up the blood. He could feel it, pressing inside him, underneath his skin._

_A hand toyed with his nipples, and then harshly pinched them. The mouth followed the hand downwards, and his nipples were both laved and then he felt bites, hard and sharp. He couldn't stop the yelp. _

_The madman who had him backed off a little, and Shawn watched with fear in his eyes as he was examined like a piece of meat. He supposed that's all he was to this nutcase. _

_He felt the tip of the knife again, this time gently circling his belly button. He fought the urge to hold his breath as the knife traced down. It reached the waist of his trousers and started to cut. All the way down one leg, then all the way down the other. He was left lying on the bed in nothing but his briefs. _

_Shawn felt terribly exposed. He knew what was coming. How could he not know? His father had warned him often enough. _

"_**Keep dressing like a freak, Shawn, and you'll get the wrong kind of attention."**_

"_**If you'll flirt with anything that moves, kid, you'll get what's coming to you"**_

"_**I found a kid, maybe a year older than you, drugged, then fucked to death, Shawn! You can't keep being this reckless!" **_

_That last was after he'd snuck out to go to a party. His dad had been so mad... maybe he was right. Maybe this was all Shawn's fault. The young man shook his head. NO. This wasn't his fault. Yes, maybe he was a little naive, but he had never done anything to deserve this. Had he?_

_

* * *

_

_The knife slit through the material of his underwear, and came uncomfortably close to his groin. He shuddered, and the man on the other end of the blade laughed. _

_He climbed on top of Shawn and forced his tongue into his mouth. Shawn bit down and got a backhand to the face. _

"_You little bastard!" _

"_Look, so far, you haven't done anything. If you let me go now, I swear I won't report you. I won't press charges."_

"_Let you go? I'm not going to let you go. We're going to have some fun." He bucked his hips, rubbing their groins together. "I was going to put something else in your mouth, get me slicked up. But if you're going to be childish, maybe I should just move on to the main event." He slid backwards so he was between Shawn's legs and positioned himself so that he could enter him. _

"_NO!" Shawn cried. "No, please, don't."_

"_You'll suck me?" _

"_No!"_

"_Then I'll fuck you." He pressed forward, and Shawn felt the head of the penis hard and huge against his hole. _

"_NO!"_

"_This is not a yes/no question, kid. This is an either/or. Either you suck me off, or I fuck you dry, which won't be fun for you." He waited for a moment before speaking again when it was clear Shawn wasn't going to respond. "Look, if you suck me off, I'll be slick, and it won't hurt you so much. Either way is fine by me."_

"_My Dad's a cop! And my Mom works with the cops!" Shawn cried out. "They'll find you! They'll kill you!"_

"_Ha! They'll only come looking at me if you tell them, or if they find your body." He leaned down and licked a long line up Shawn's cheek. "And trust me, they won't." _

"_Please don't do this. Please."_

"_You know you want it, you slut. You're such a whore. I saw you sitting on that man's lap, wiggling you butt, acting like you were sucking off that damn bottle." He rolled his hips a little and the very tip of his cock breached Shawn. "Now, have you made a decision?"_

"_I... I'll suck you off." He looked away and flushed red. He hated that he was going to have to do this. But he remembered what his dad, and all the other cops said. _

"_**If you ever get kidnapped, or mugged, do what the bad guy says. Do whatever you have to, to stay alive. As long as you're alive, you can escape. You can be saved. It doesn't matter what you have to do. No one will think less of you."**_

"_Good boy." The madman moved up Shawn's body to straddle his upper chest. "Open wide. And if you bite, I'll carve you up."_

_Shawn slowly forced his mouth open and licked at the leaking precum at the head of the cock before his face. The man moved forward so his knees were either side of Shawn's head, holding it in place, while he fucked Shawn's mouth and throat relentlessly. _

_Shawn choked and gagged, and tears rolled down his face, but the madman didn't stop fucking that moist cavern. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, the man came in Shawn's mouth. He pulled out and clapped a hand over his victim's lips. _

"_Swallow it." _

_Shawn did as his chest hitched with silent sobs. _

"_Good boy."_

_

* * *

_

_His cock was soft now and he couldn't get hard again for awhile. He patted Shawn's cheek and moved away from the bed. He looked down at the man on the mattress, and saw that the blood was still flowing freely from his throat. _

"_You're beautiful. And now, you're all mine. I'm going to fuck you so hard, and you're going to love it. I bet I make you cum." _

_Shawn decided then and there that no matter what, he wasn't going to give this freak the satisfaction of cumming. A rough hand manipulated his cock, wanking him off. He closed his eyes. The hands explored his body, pulling and twisting his nipples, tracing his scars. Fingers dug into the bite marks on his chest, making him cry out. _

"_That's it slut. Scream for me." _

_The hands touched him everywhere. He couldn't get away from them. The tears flowed freely down his face. He hated that this man could reduce him to this. He hated the tears. He hated the small whimpers he was making. _

_He was never sure, afterwards, how long this exquisite torture lasted. His whole body was trembling, and the fingers were everywhere, but he wasn't hard. Not even a little. He pulled against the bindings that held him in place, and his captor laughed. _

"_Easy, slut. Relax. You'll get yours soon enough." He laid down on top of Shawn, and rubbed their groins together. He was half hard again, so he must have been feeling Shawn up for awhile. He rocked his hips over and over again, getting harder and harder as he pressed their cocks against each other. _

_Suddenly, he backed off. _

"_I'm going to fuck you now slut." Shawn winced. _

"_But... you said... I sucked you off earlier, but you're dry now. It'll hurt..."_

"_Yes. It will." He said and positioned himself. He grabbed a pillow and elevated Shawn's hips and then rocked into him in one smooth motion. _

_Shawn screamed. _

_The man fucking him didn't stop, just kept thrusting into him._

_

* * *

_

"_God, you're tight. Were you a virgin back here?"_

_Shawn just sobbed. _

"_I asked you a question, slut." It was accompanied by a hard blow to Shawn's side and followed by a reappearance of the knife at his throat. It was in the groove of the original wound and pressed in a little deeper. _

"_I'm straight. I've never..."_

"_You were a virgin?" the knife pressed in a little more. _

"_Yes." It was said through gritted teeth. _

"_Fuck. You're mine. I'm the first to fuck you, the first to claim you. My own little slut." He fucked him harder and harder. "This changes everything. I'm going to keep you. You're all mine. I'm the only one who'll ever do this to you, and I'm going to be doing this for a long time to come. I'm going to keep you forever. My own little slut to play with."_

_He kept talking as he forced himself on Shawn, telling him of all the depraved things he was going to do to him. _

"_I'll get a room set up for you, and there'll be chains, and toys. And I'll keep you there, and I'll fuck you whenever I want. And I'll train you to give a proper blowjob, better than that half assed thing you did earlier. I'll buy you a nice plug to keep you open all the time, so I can just come in and fuck you whenever I like."_

_Shawn just cried. _

_Finally, the man came and Shawn felt his insides warming. He sobbed. He felt his cock being pulled on, but he wasn't hard, and there was no way he was going to get that way. He hurt. The nut-job pulled out and Shawn gave a small cry. _

"_I'm gonna go and clean up, get some food. You don't go anywhere. I have to get your room sorted." He grabbed up his clothes. "My very own pet slut." He grinned and walked out._

_

* * *

_**That's it for the actual rape. The next chapter will start with Shawn's escape, and the end of the flashback. **

**I felt uncomfortable writing this chapter, and I'm not entirely happy with it. I've not written much sex in general, let alone rape. If it disturbed you, it's your own fault for not reading the author's notes. :P**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, so for everyone who skipped the last chapter, Shawn was raped and then left alone by his captor who has decided to keep him. There will be references to rape throughout this chapter and the rest of the story, but no more explicit M rated stuff. **

**Hope I didn't put anyone off. **

**

* * *

**

_Shawn was left alone, lying on the bed, wet with blood and cum and tears. He hated this. He hated the man who'd done this too him. And he hated himself, for not being able to stop him. He lay there, not feeling for a while. He just couldn't deal with it. _

_But, he could only lie there in pain and self pity for so long. As much as he wanted to just shut down completely, he knew that if he did, he'd never get out. He looked up at his wrists, then down at his feet. His legs were bent; to let him be put in the right position for... he shook himself. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Just... don't think about it. He straightened his legs, feeling his ass burn as he moved. He stuck to the sheets which made him feel ill. But, he'd gotten some slack in the rope around his wrists. And now, he could reach up with his mouth and get at the knots. He didn't notice until he put his mouth on the rough cord that his wrists were bleeding. He looked at the flesh and saw that it was pale and had a dusky blue tinge to it. He'd pulled the rope tight with his struggles and cut off the circulation to his hand and abraded the skin of his wrist. _

_He ignored the blood, and just clamped his teeth down on the hemp and pulled. It took a while but he got the knot loose and pulled his hand free. Immediately he felt the shock of blood returning to the deprived limb. It __hurt! __It almost felt like the blood was boiling and fizzing beneath his skin. He bit his lip, and reached up to undo the other hand. It was in a similar state, and so were his feet when he got to them. _

_He was free. He was untied. He stumbled over to the window on feet full of pins and needles, and slippery with blood from his rope-bitten ankles. Day was dawning on the distant horizon and Shawn felt nothing. _

_He'd been there all night. How had that happened?_

_He noticed that the pick-up truck was gone. The madman must have taken it into town to get things for Shawn's "room". His bike was there though. Maybe he could fix whatever the guy had done to it and get out of here that way... _

_First things first. Clothes. He went over to the closet but it was pretty bare, with just a few hangers inside. Shawn sighed. It couldn't be that easy, could it? _

_He went to the next room and found a small bathroom. He looked at the shower longingly, but he knew that if he got in, he'd never want to get back out again. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of himself in a full length mirror. There was blood drying on his upper chest, and the long, thin cut on his throat was still bleeding sluggishly. That was worrying. It must have nicked a blood vessel. He had a dark bruise blooming on his face which he'd expected but the small bleeding lump just above his ear surprised him. It must have been from the initial blow when the nutcase had first lifted away the knife. Shawn thought for a minute and realised that he remembered seeing a large ring on one of the guy's fingers. It must have cut him when he was punched in the side of the head. _

_He looked at the bites on his chest, both bleeding and swollen. They made him feel sick. _

_There was blood and cum running down the inside of his thighs, though thankfully not as much blood as there could have been. And of course, he was wearing bracelets and anklets of blood from where the rope had rubbed his flesh raw. _

_He pulled himself away. He had to get out of there. He went into the next room and found a second bedroom. The bed had obviously been slept in. He went over to the closet and pulled a large button down shirt out and pulled it on. He didn't want to wear his rapist's clothes, so first thing, he had to find his backpack and saddle bags. He'd seen his bike outside, and he could only hope the madman had left his belongings behind as well. If they were in the truck with him then he was...well, fucked, to use precisely the right word. _

_He went downstairs and found his things had been brought in and were lying on the bottom step. Shawn grabbed his backpack and rummaged inside. He got dressed quickly, flinching at the feel of the liquids from his body soaking into the fabric. _

_Shawn rushed over to his bike, but it still wouldn't start, and he couldn't see what was wrong with it. _

"_Shit, shit, shit!"_

_He'd taken auto-shop! He should be able to fix this! Not to mention that he'd taken a crash course on motor-bike mechanics before he left home. He should know what to do! _

_What was he going to do now?_

_He sat there for a moment, trying to think. _

"_Stupid!"_

_He had a cell phone. HE HAD A CELL PHONE. Gus had insisted. _

"_**Shawn," he'd said. "If you're going to run off and disappear on me, you are going to buy a cell phone. And you are going to call me." **_

_So, Shawn had bought a cell phone and he'd kept it charged and in credit. He pulled it out, and paused, fingers poised above the keypad. He could call 911. He could call, and the police would come and arrest the psycho. He could call, and an ambulance would appear with the good drugs that would make him feel better. He could call, and the authorities would fix everything. _

_He dialled. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Gus?"_

_

* * *

_

Shawn was shaking. He was looking at nothing.

"Shawn, come on. Come out of it." Dr Stevenage was shaking him gently. He hadn't anticipated this level of trauma. It was probably compounded by the years of repression, combined with the shock of the more recent event.

Shawn blinked. He looked around him, and then shook his head.

"Shit." He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"There you are." The doctor ran a hand up and down Shawn's arm in a soothing motion, but Shawn leaned away from him. "Does this happen often?"

"No. This is the third flashback I've had since the second attack. The seventh I've had over all." His voice was devoid of its usual life.

"It's normal." Doctor Stevenage assured. "I want you to take a sedative, just a mild one, and have a lie down for a little while. And I want to talk about this flashback when you wake up."

"I don't want to."

"I know. But you're tired and I want to talk about this before you leave, and I don't think you're ready to discuss it just yet, are you?"

"Not really, no." Shawn winced.

"So, you'll come and lie down?"

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will have you admitted for a 72 hour evaluation."

"You can't do that! You have to prove I'm a danger to myself or others!"

"Well, you did just have a rather vivid flashback. You almost knocked my block off when I touched you. And if you had one of those while driving, you could cause an accident. I could also claim that the overdose was a result of depression, and deliberate."

"You... you..." Shawn was at a loss for words. It was an unusual feeling for him, and he didn't like it.

"So, I think it would be best if you had a little nap, don't you?"

"I... Lassie will be coming to get me soon."

"Lassie being Detective Lassiter? The experience didn't drive you apart?"

"Look, I just want to go home!"

The Doctor took a good look at Shawn and decided to let him go. He was just making the young man more agitated. He was worried that Shawn might slip into a depression due to the resurfacing of whatever had caused his flashback, and he wanted to keep an eye on him. But, he knew that if he forced Shawn to stay now, he'd lose what little trust the man had in him, and the therapy would be worthless.

"Okay."

"What? You're just saying okay now? You were all 'I'll have you committed' and 'look I'm Nurse Rachett' a minute ago, and now you're just letting me leave."

"Yeah. Sorry about the whole threatening you thing. I just... you had me worried there."

"I don't react well to threats, especially not to threats of being locked up."

"It was a stupid move on my part." Stevenage admitted. "If I prescribed a mild antidepressant and mood stabilizer, would you take it?"

"I'm going to go for... Hells no! I like my thinking to be clear."

"I thought that's what you'd say." He gave Shawn a long look. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"Alright. Then I won't prescribe one yet."

"Yet?"

"Yet. I will however set up sessions every two days. I want to keep an eye on you."

"Aw, every two days? Can't get enough of me, can you Doc?"

"Watch it. Or I'll make it every day." He joked. Then, he suddenly became serious again. "I know you may not feel like talking to me. Going by today's session that seems likely. But I hope you have someone you feel comfortable talking to." He paused for a moment and then said, tentatively: "It's sometimes easier to talk to someone on the outside, a stranger who you don't have to spare the details."

Shawn thought about Gus, and Lassiter. He thought about Josephine and Molly. He thought of his Dad, of Buzz and Francine. Juliet and Chief Vick.

Then he thought of the Priest at the hospital. Father Michael.

"Yeah. I'll think of someone."

* * *

**I know it's a bit shorter than the others (only by about 300 words though) but I figured I'd better not leave you in suspense. And Dr Stevenage... I can't decide if I want him to be a good guy, misguided or evil. The Flashback with Gus will probably be resolved during the next couple of chapters. **


	11. Chapter 11

**In which not much happens. My computer ate most of this chapter, and I had to rewrite it. This would have been easier if I had any idea what I'd actually written in the first place. I was annoyed, to say the least. The next chapter should be better. **

**Father Michael Murphy from 4 o'clock makes an appearance, so this one goes out to AchillesMonkey, because that character wouldn't exist without her.**

**

* * *

**

Lassiter looked worriedly over at Shawn. The man had been unusually quiet since he'd picked him up from the shrink's office. A quiet Shawn was never a good thing.

"You okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." Shawn looked at him and seemed to come back to himself. Lassiter wasn't sure he was really there with him. Shawn looked out of the window and looked confused. "This isn't the way to my place."

"I know. You have an appointment at the hospital. Remember? Dr Foster wanted to check your back was healing nicely."

"Oh, right. I knew that."

"Shawn, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure." Shawn looked away. "Are you going to come in with me or what?"

"I thought I'd wait in the cafe and then we could go for some dinner. Gus was planning on meeting us at Shenanigans. I could just go for some Blarney Stone Fajitas."

"Sounds good." Shawn went back to looking dazedly out of the window in silence.

Lassiter sighed.

He hadn't had his own appointment with the head shrinker yet and he was dreading it. If this was the effect it had on the usually bubbly Shawn...

* * *

"Well, you seem to be healing nicely." Dr Foster said. "The last of the stitches should be able to come out soon."

"Thanks Doc." Shawn replied quietly. If the doctor noticed Shawn's listlessness and the way he flinched back from his touch (the memories being too close, too real) he didn't say anything.

"Now, I heard about what happened with the painkillers. Try only to take them when the pain is at its very worst. I don't want you overdoing it again." He looked Shawn in the eye, trying to figure out if it really was an accident. Pretty much everybody who knew Shawn was trying to figure that out. And Dr Foster had seen Shawn in a panic attack. He'd seen him in a flashback. He knew that Shawn was on the edge.

"Yes, sir." Shawn mock saluted.

"And I hope you're up to date on your antibiotics. You know that you're still at a high risk of infection."

"I know. I've been taking them."

"Good." The doctor looked at him for a long moment, assessing. "I'm guessing the Prozac I prescribed when you were released went straight in the bin, am I right?"

"Yeah." Shawn looked at the floor. "I hate feeling like I can't think. And one of the side effects of taking SSRIs is difficulty remembering. As much as I'd like to forget some things... I just can't."

"Shawn, that's a very rare side effect, and it's almost unheard of in young healthy people."

"I know. But... I can't risk it." Shawn shrugged and then muttered. "I need to be in control."

"I understand that." Doctor Foster sighed. "Just... take care of yourself, alright? And if you have any trouble, come back in."

"I will."

They shook hands, and Shawn headed down to the cafe. Or, at least he tried to go down to the cafe. His feet had other ideas. His feet took him the wrong way. He was thinking, and apparently his feet decided he needed to see Father Michael Murphy. His brain wasn't sure it agreed with that assessment, but he still found himself standing in the hospital chapel.

He shrugged and went with it.

* * *

Shawn made his way along a pew and sat down. He looked down at his hands in his lap and just sat there.

"Shawn, right?" Father Michael sat down beside him.

"Yeah."

"How are you?"

"Me, I'm just peachy."

"Now, why don't I believe that?"

"Because you're freakishly perceptive? I don't even know why I'm here. I'm not sure if I told you before, but I'm not exactly a believer."

"I guessed."

"I just... I needed..."

"Did something happen?" Father Michael Murphy had seen a lot of people in a lot of pain. He was worried about this young man.

"No, not really. I'm just... a total headcase."

"Do you want to talk about whatever it is?"

"I just want to stop feeling this way. I want to be me again."

"Well, they say time heals all wounds." The Father offered, and Shawn laughed. It was a harsh, unnerving sound.

"That's all you got for me? An overused cliché?" He shook his head and got up. "Next thing, you'll be saying 'the Lord works in mysterious ways!' I don't have time for this. Why did I think you could help me?" He walked off back down the aisle.

"Shawn, just, be careful, alright? Take care of yourself." Michael called after him. then, in an undertone: "I will pray for you."

* * *

Lassiter looked up as Shawn entered the cafe, and frowned at the dejected slump of his shoulders.

"Shawn! What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing is wrong with me."

"What did the doctor say? Did the infection come back?"

"I said I'm fine."

He looked around the cafe, and being Shawn, he noticed things. Like the boy crying into his chocolate milkshake, like the guy with shaking hands and the IV, like the woman who was so skinny and pale that she was practically see through. It made him feel... wrong. His arms came up to wrap around his torso.

"Lassie? Can we get out of here?" He hated that his voice sounded so plaintive.

"Sure. We need to meet up with Gus anyway." He put his hand on the small of Shawn's back and steered him away from the hospital.

* * *

"Welcome to Shenanigans! Home of the Blarney Stone Fajitas!" the greeter said, and Irish people everywhere fell about laughing.

"Reservation for three. Under the name, Guster." Gus said, and was led over to an empty table. He sat down and fiddled with his cutlery. He was worried about Shawn. Shawn hated therapy, and he hated medication. But Gus was convinced that right now, his friend needed both. He just hoped that Shawn wasn't going to be too angry, that he was going to give this a chance.

"Guster."

"Lassiter. Shawn, how'd it go?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Shawn sat down and began folding his napkin into a crane.

"That bad, huh?" Gus frowned. He'd been hoping that Shawn would get _something_ out of the trip to the psychiatrist.

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Shawn said. "Anyway, shouldn't you know already? I mean, you're the one who's been calling my shrink up, chatting away and requesting things?"

"He told you about that?" Gus sounded slightly shocked, and Lassiter looked from one to the other, confused.

"Of course. First trick of any shrink. Establishing trust."

"You called up his shrink?" Lassiter asked, staring at Gus.

"I just wanted to make sure-"

"-That they could drug me into oblivion, if need be." Shawn interrupted. He wasn't just angry, he was pissed. He didn't trust many people. Hell, he lied to practically everyone he knew, and held everyone at arm's length with sarcasm, and scathing remarks. But Gus, he let in. All the way in. And then his friend something like this.

"I'm sorry, Shawn, but I knew you wouldn't talk to the doctor, and therapy is also known as the 'talking cure'. As in it doesn't work if you don't talk, Shawn. Therefore, if you aren't going to be cured by talking, you can be cured by happy pills."

"You know how I feel about drugs, Gus. And Doctors." He stared at his best friend. "Please, just leave this alone."

"I saw how you were last time, Shawn. I can't go through that again. I don't think you'll survive it. I can't just stand back and let that happen."

"Gus... this isn't like last time."

"Hang on a minute. I'm confused." Lassiter put in. But he got no answer.

Shawn and Gus were both miles away and years ago.

* * *

**By the way the decision is in. Dr Stevenage is not going to be evil! You asked for him to be good in a vote of 4 to 2. In fact I had one reader say they'd stop reading unless I made him a good guy. Sorry to those who wanted more Shawn whump. If it's any consolation, I'll make Stevenage a little misguided. **


	12. Chapter 12

**This flashback is turning out to be longer than I expected. So, I'm uploading what I've got. The flashback will be finished next chapter. Also, RL is interfering, and probably will continue to, since I'm going back to Uni in 3 weeks. DMU Rules! **

**Also, anyone who's read 'The Dresden Files' by Jim Butcher, or 'Time Enough for Love' by Robert Heinlein, could you_ please _read and review 'On Immortality or the Facsimile Thereof'? I'd really appreciate it. I wrote it in about half an hour while I was supposed to be working on this, and I'd like to know how I did. **

**

* * *

**

_Gus was at university, Cal Sci. He only had a few days left before he was on vacation, and he was packing. His phone rang. _

"_Hello?"_

"_Gus?"_

"_Shawn? Is that you?"_

"_Yeah. I... I need you to come and pick me up."_

"_What are you talking about Shawn? I can't just come and get you."_

"_I...I need you to come and get me."_

"_Are you alright? You sound weird." 'Weird' was only one word for it. 'Vulnerable' was another, and Gus wasn't used to Shawn sounding vulnerable. He hadn't heard his friend sound like this in years. _

"_I, I think I'm hurt. He... he hurt me."_

"_What? Who hurt you? Have you called an ambulance?" And that was even stranger. Who had hurt Shawn and how badly? Shawn usually laughed off physical injuries. it was his reaction to having spent so much time in hospital as a kid. _

"_No, I can't."_

"_You need to call an ambulance, and the police, if someone did this to you."_

"_I __can't__!"_

"_Why not? Are you in trouble?"_

"_He might come back. I can't hang up. Gus, don't hang up."_

"_Shawn, calm down. Do you know where you are?"_

"_Uh... yeah, yeah."_

_There was a long pause. _

"_Shawn, you want to tell me where you are?"_

"_I'm outside." Gus took a deep breath and forced his voice to be calm. He was really getting worried._

"_Do you know the address?" _

"_I...yeah. The letters, I saw them, and the address was on them."_

"_Okay, can you tell me the address?" Shawn reeled it off. "Good. That's good. I'm on my way, okay? But I'm going to be a while. It's going to take a few hours. I'm in a whole different state."_

"_Don't hang up. Please, don't hang up."_

"_I won't. I'm going to keep you on the line, okay? I'll put you on speakerphone. Alright?" Gus paused as he pulled on a jacket and his shoes. Then something occurred to him. "Shawn, are you somewhere safe? You said someone hurt you, are you safe from him?"_

"_I'll hide. I can hide."_

_

* * *

_

_Shawn looked around him. He was shaking. He had to hide. Had to get safe. His brain didn't seem to be working properly. He saw a collection of outbuildings on the outskirts of the large overgrown yard. He could hide there. He started towards them, then froze. He couldn't leave his baby out here. If that psycho saw the bike, he'd know he was still nearby. He wheeled it along the path with some difficulty. He was leaving a trail of blood drops and bent back foliage. He didn't even notice. Gus had told him to get somewhere safe, so he was getting somewhere safe. The first shed was locked with a rusty padlock. His hands were in no shape to pick it. The second shed was locked too, but the wood around the hasp was rotten. All it took was one hard tug and the door was open. And the nut case would think the door was locked. He went in, pulling his bike along with him and shut the door behind him. _

"_Shawn! Shawn! I swear, if you don't talk to me soon, I'm going to hang this damn phone up!"_

"_Gus?"_

"_Oh, thank God!" Gus slumped forward and leaned his head on his steering wheel (he'd made his way there in the meanwhile). "I thought you were dead, Shawn! You need to keep talking to me, alright?"_

"_Okay, Gus. I was hiding, like you said. Talking is a good idea. I need to stay awake anyway. I'm pretty sure I have a concussion, and I may be going into shock."_

"_Okay." Gus sighed and shook his head. "I'm on my way. Don't move."_

"_Okay." Shawn sat down on a pile of sacks, and winced. He was cold, and tired and he hurt. "Gus? Are you still there?"_

"_Yeah, I'm here, buddy. I'm on my way."_

"_Good. That's good." Shawn leaned against the boxes and things behind him, and closed his eyes._

_

* * *

_

_Time passed slowly, with Shawn jumping at every sound and Gus breaking the traffic laws for the first time in his life. _

_Then a truck's engine roared out, and Shawn curled in on himself. He had stopped shaking with Gus' voice in his ear and his own clothes on, but the sound of that engine revving through the yard started him trembling again. He was hyperventilating, and he had gone pale. _

"_Shawn! Shawn, talk to me. Where did you go?"_

_The truck door slammed. _

"_What's wrong, Shawn?"_

_Out of tune whistling and the sound of shopping bags rustling._

"_Shawn, talk to me. If you don't say something soon, I'll hang up and call 911."_

_Footsteps going up the path to the house._

"_SHAWN!"_

"_Sh!" Shawn whispered finally after he heard the house door shut. "He'll hear you!"_

"_He came back? The man who hurt you?"_

"_He's... he's in the house."_

"_Are you hidden? Is there any way he can see you?"_

"_I... I don't think he can find me. But he'll see I'm gone soon enough. He'll hurt me."_

"_He's not going to hurt you again. I promise. I'm on my way. I'll be there soon. Just stay hidden and stay quiet."_

_Shawn nodded, although he knew Gus couldn't see him, and took a few deep, steadying breaths._

_

* * *

_

_Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, a young rookie cop with an unlikely moustache was sitting in his patrol car. He was working a speed trap. He saw a small car coming hurtling towards him, and pointed the speed gun at it. The car was travelling at almost double the speed limit! The cop turned on the siren and flashed the lights. But the little car didn't stop. _

_He chased the little car up the road, calling for backup, but as they flew around a corner his patrol car spun out. The little car kept driving, and the cop punched his steering wheel. There was no way he'd catch the guy now. And he hadn't got the licence plate; he'd been concentrating on his driving. _

"_I'll get you, and your little car too, or my name isn't Officer Carlton Lassiter!" He growled. _

_Officer Carlton Lassiter spent the next few months trying to track down the little car that had evaded him. He never did. But, in the course of his investigations he pulled over a driver and discovered that he was a runner for one of the local drug cartels. He broke open the entire operation, and landed his first big break on the force._

_

* * *

_

_Back in the shed, Shawn was holding his breath. _

"_GODDAMMIT! Where are you, you little slut? You're mine, you hear me? You're mine!" _

_He could hear the shouts from the house. The front door slammed, and now he was out here. He was out here, where Shawn was. He might find him. he might hurt him again. He was getting closer. _

"_Come out now, and I might not hurt you too badly. You need to be punished, but if you're a good little whore and come to me now, I might give you a treat as well." _

_Shawn could hear footsteps moving across the overgrown yard. _

"_Get out here now! Or I'll drag you out and make you sorry!" _

_Shawn was smart enough to know (hello, genius here!) that the psycho didn't know where he was. That he couldn't know where he was. But he was shaking all over and terrified. He couldn't go through that again. _

It's alright._ He told himself. _He doesn't know where I am. Psycho isn't that observant. He hasn't even noticed the bike is gone yet. He won't find me. He can't.

_Afterwards, he couldn't say how long he'd huddled there; eyes squeezed shut, as he listened to the nut case searching for him. The vile commentary on what the bad guy was going to do when he found him was often interrupted by the sound of things being thrown. He heard the psycho search the only unlocked out building, and bit his lip. What if he searched all of them, even the locked ones? What if he found him? What if...?_

_Gus kept up a steady stream of trivialities in his ear, commenting on everything he saw, chatting about Uni, girlfriends, anything that came to mind. It grounded Shawn, reminded him that life wasn't always like this. _

"_Shit!" He heard the sound of flesh striking stone. "Ow! The little fucker!" _

_The truck door slammed and he heard the engine roar as it tore out of the property. A shudder ran through his entire body, and he almost sobbed. _

"_Gus? He left. I think he saw the bike was gone."_

"_Thank God." Gus sighed. "I'll be there in about an hour. You can hold on that long?"_

"_I'll be fine." Shawn said, and he would be._

_

* * *

_**Sorry, I'll get to work on the next bit, but I've been really busy lately. My sister is studying abroad this year, she left for America the other day, and I've been worrying about her. She skyped me this evening though and she's doing all right. Anyone in Vermont keep an eye out for her! **

**Also, it's my brother's eleventh birthday today! **

**The next chapter should be fairly soon, but it's unpredictable with RL getting in the way. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry it's been so long. But from here on in, the updates will be sporadic and unpredictable. Sorry again. Here's the rest of the flashback sequence. **

**Oh, and I guess this goes out to CrazyInLoveWithStabler, because she gave me a kick when I was being slow. **

**

* * *

**

_Gus pulled up to the side of the road and looked up at the house before him. It was huge and run down, in the middle of nowhere, and had an overrun garden. He half expected lightning to flash above it. It was creepy. It was worse than creepy. He gave a little shiver. But Shawn needed him. _

_He looked around for something he could use as a weapon. _

_First, he picked up his stack of maps, and hefted them. No, there was no way he could use those on the bad guy, too unwieldy. _

_Next, he grabbed the fluffy dice from the wing mirror, and twirled them like nunchucks. They'd been a present from Joy when he'd first got the car. Nah, they were too squishy and fluffy to do any real damage. _

_Then he spotted something on his passenger seat and grinned. Perfect._

"_Shawn? I'm here."_

"_What? Where?" _

"_I've just got out of the car. Where are you?" _

"_Shed. Second shed in the row."_

"_Okay. I'll be right there."_

"_Gus, be careful. I think he's still gone, but if he's not, then it will be bad."_

"_It's okay. I have a weapon." Gus was taken aback, not to mention worried, by the way Shawn sounded more like a frightened child than the brave man Gus knew. _

"_Good."_

_Gus stalked quietly through the overgrown yard. He was in full Jackal mode. If whoever had hurt Shawn came back..._

_

* * *

_

_Shawn had been sitting in the cramped shed, curled up between his bike and a stack of boxes for almost three hours now. He ached all over. Partly from the stress he'd put on his joints and muscles fighting the ropes, and partly from sitting in the same hunched position curled beside his bike. He could here footsteps outside and he held his breath. He pressed the phone closer against his ear. Gus wasn't talking, but he could hear his friend breathing. What if Gus was quiet because he was hiding? What if the footsteps weren't Gus's? What if __he'd__ come back? _

"_Gus?"_

"_Shit, Shawn!" Gus gasped out. "Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!" _

"_Sorry. But you went quiet, and I can hear footsteps and you weren't talking!"_

"_Shawn, breathe." It was an order. "I'm quiet because I'm sneaking through a psycho's yard. If he's around..." _

_Shawn flinched. Then he winced as everything hurt. If Gus thought he was around, then maybe he was around. Maybe he just drove the truck up the road and then came back, to wait Shawn out. Maybe he was out there right now. Maybe..._

_The shed door burst open and Shawn let rip with an unmanly scream. He was reassured when this caused the dark shadow in the doorway to let out a high pitched squeal. _

_It was Gus. He was standing there, holding a stack of CDs, God knows why._

"_Gus?" _

"_Shawn?" Gus hung up the phone, and fell to his knees by his friend. He dropped the CDs in his hurry, and they scattered and clattered all over the floor. His hands came up to trace the bruises on Shawn's face. _

"_Gus?" Shawn still had the phone pressed to his ear and his eyes were wide. He was shaking, and there was blood. _

"_Yeah, it's me." He gently reached out and took the phone, hanging it up. He was so glad right now that the battery hadn't gone flat. Shawn was on the brink of panic as it was, but if he hadn't had Gus talking to him, then he might have done something... stupid. _

"_Gus?" Shawn said a third time, and his eyes finally seemed to focus._

"_I'm here, Shawn."_

"_Why are you here with your CD collection?" Shawn asked, sounding so honestly bewildered, that Gus bit back a laugh. _

"_Weapons. You know, we can throw them, like Xena."_

"_Xena?" Shawn shook his head. "There is no way that I'm being Gabrielle." There were tears streaming down his face and Gus didn't think Shawn realised it. _

"_Joxer?" _

"_No! I am totally Kevin Sorbo!"_

_Gus did laugh this time, and Shawn gave a choked noise that seemed to be a cross between a sob and a giggle. He was close to hysterical._

"_Come on. Let's get you out of here." _

"_I'm not leaving my bike." Shawn said and huddled closer to the Norton. Gus was happy to see that spark of his friend's nature, but then he realised Shawn sounded more like a child with a security blanket. _

"_Okay. Let me get you into the car, and..." _

_An engine roared and Shawn froze. He pulled his lower lip into his mouth and bit down, his hands becoming fists to try and still the reflexive trembling. _

"_It's him. You have to hide. Gus, you have to go. Have to hide, if he finds you, your car, your car is out there and you have to hide!" _

"_Calm down!" Gus squeezed his shoulder, which got him a yelp and a reproachful glare. _

"_You don't understand." Shawn whispered as the truck ground to a halt._

"_What the fuck?" That hated voice came and Shawn shrank away from it. "Hello?"_

"_What do we do?" Gus asked, used to Shawn taking the lead._

"_He's seen your car. He's going to be looking for you."_

"_He won't find us here, will he?"_

"_He doesn't have to," Shawn said, his voice devoid of emotion. "All he has to do is slash the tires or pull the distributer cap." _

"_Shit." Gus put his head in his hands. _

"_We're going to have to make a run for the car."_

"_I'll knock him out. Or I'll distract him, and get in the car, and run him over." _

"_No. He's... he's strong and he's fast." _

"_We don't have a choice, Shawn. We can't stay hiding here forever. And if he finds us, we'll be cornered." _

"_You're right. I __know__ you're right." Shawn pressed his palms against his eyes, and sighed. "I just don't know if I can do this. I don't think I'll be much help." _

_Gus gave him a long evaluating look. He'd never seen Shawn so... broken. _

"_How about this..." Gus outlined a cunning plan. More cunning than a fox that was a professor of cunningness at Oxford University._

_

* * *

_

_Psycho walked slowly around his yard. He hadn't found the slut, and now there was a strange car with an absent owner in his driveway. The slut went and got help? But it wasn't a cop's car, and if the slut had brought back a posse then where were they? Why weren't they attacking him? Maybe... maybe his slut had never left... the bike was pretty fucked up. It wasn't an easy fix. So, he'd just been hiding this whole time? But then who was... phone! _

"_Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He kicked the side of the car. He'd been out pounding the pavement, and the slut had been here the whole time! There was a noise from the yard, making him jump. _

_It sounded like a stack of his tools falling over. But they were all safely locked in the sheds, so that didn't make much sense. He walked slowly around the side of the house towards the sheds. There were three of them in a row. He slowed even more as he got closer. There was something in his shed. He'd had some trouble with rats... or could it be the Slut? But if it was, how did he get in the shed? Psycho let his hand drift down to the handle of the hunting knife on his belt. He gentled his footsteps so that he was moving in deadly silence and felt a familiar surge in his stomach and groin. He loved the hunt. _

_The first shed was locked up tight as always, but the second shed... Psycho put his ear to the door and heard rummaging. It was like someone was trying to put right whatever had been knocked over. He slowly opened the door, going for the element of surprise. The slut was curled up on the floor, next to the damn bike. He had a stack of CDs in his hands and he was surrounded by tools that had been knocked akimbo. Psycho couldn't help but smile when he saw the slut freeze. The slut stared at him, pale and terrified. _

"_Come here, slut. You come with me now, and I might not decide you're more trouble than you're worth." _

_The slut's eyes narrowed and he started throwing the CDs like Frisbees. The fucking hurt. A Michael Jackson album made a nasty gash on Psycho's forehead. An a-ha CD hit Psycho on the cheek, just below his eye. _

_The slut made to throw another CD, then glanced at the title. His eyes went wide and he carefully put it to one side. That was all the opening Psycho needed. He bellowed and charged... or he would have if Gus hadn't jumped on his back like an insane monkey. He held the spade he'd taken from the shed earlier across Psycho's throat. _

_Psycho gradually fell unconscious as the lack of oxygen got to him. He fell forwards on top of Shawn, who completely freaked out. The feeling of the large man on top of him threw him into a flashback and he panicked. _

"_Shawn! Shawn! Calm down! You're alright!"Gus wasn't entirely sure what was going on with his friend, but he was worried. He pulled Shawn out from underneath the Nut Case and kept an arm wrapped around him till he calmed down. _

"_Nice one, Gus." Shawn said once he'd gotten a hold of himself. "You got him. You were like a superhero." _

"_Yeah. I was, wasn't I. What happened, Shawn? Why did you stop throwing CDs?"_

"_Dude. I couldn't throw 'Tears for Fears'. That would be, like, sacrilege." _

_Gus rolled his eyes. _

"_What do we do with him?" _

_Shawn was tempted to say 'Kill him' but he couldn't do that to Gus. Gus wouldn't do well in prison. _

"_We leave him here. And get the hell away from him."_

"_Shawn, we should call the police."_

"_No!" It was instinctive. "No, I need to get to a hospital, and we can go to the police station after that."_

"_Shawn..."_

"_I promise." _

"_Okay."_

"_And I'm not leaving my bike behind."_

"_Fine."_

_

* * *

_

_Gus got the full story from Shawn at the hospital. He freaked. He wanted to go back and kill the bastard. Shawn didn't try and talk him out of it, he just sat there and looked pathetic, so that when Gus finished ranting he just sat down at his bedside and held his hand._

_They did go to the police station, but Shawn started shaking before he even got to the desk and ran out of there. Gus got him calmed down, but Shawn said that he couldn't do this. That he couldn't talk about it. Gus understood. _

_For the next six months, Shawn stayed with Gus. He woke up screaming from nightmares, and he flinched away from every casual touch. Gus was terrified he'd wake up one day and find Shawn just gone. But gradually, Shawn got better. He learned to cope. He forced himself to pretend, and he got good at hiding his emotions. He acted like it never happened. But the fear was still there. _

_Gus thought he was fine. That he'd gotten over it. _

_Then one day Shawn disappeared, and Gus panicked. He was just gone and he stayed gone for hours. Gus looked everywhere. _

_He found him eventually. It was dark by then, and getting cold. Shawn was sitting on the end of the pier, looking out to sea. _

"_I wonder how far I could swim before I got too tired."_

"_Shawn?"_

"_I bet I could get pretty far." He had a distant look on his face that Gus didn't like one bit._

"_Shawn. You can't kill yourself. Then he'd win."_

"_Gus, don't be a silly platypus. I was talking about swimming." He thought of it as an experiment, not as suicide. He'd just see how far he could swim. He didn't think about drowning. _

"_Come on." Gus grabbed him and dragged him away. He didn't know how to deal with this._

_

* * *

_

**This marks the end of the flashback. Next chapter, we'll be back in Shenannigans. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry, sorry, sorry! My life has been pretty screwed up over the past week or so. I know how late it is, and the next one probably will be as well. My Mum's having trouble with my step dad, and i just moved into a new flat for while I'm at Uni, and my Mum's having work issues as well, and I'm the one who she talks to about it all, and I'm 20 odd years younger than her, and I'm supposed to say something constructive? Everything is kind of messed up.**

** Sorry, ranting. **

**deep breath. **

**Anyway, i hope y'all are still reading. I also hope this chapter's worth it. i almost left you with a full on cliffie, but decided it was too evil. **

**also, if A happy reader is still reading, you asked for some Lassie whump a long time ago. happy to oblige. Also CrazyInLoveWithStabler, thanks for the prod to keep writing. **

**this picks up back in shenanigans and picks up on events of the previous four or five ****chapters. you may want to refresh your memories, because i know it's been a while since i posted. **

**enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

Shawn hunched in on himself. He didn't want to be thinking about this. He didn't want Gus to be thinking about this.

"I can't do this right now. Just... I'm going to spend the night at my Dad's. He'll leave me alone." Shawn got up and stalked out of the restaurant.

"Well, that went well." Lassiter scowled.

"I was just trying to help," Gus offered.

"I know. and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but think about it. Shawn needs to be in control, now more than ever. No wonder he freaked out."

"I get that. Believe me, I do. But Shawn... he doesn't... last time, he really scared me. I can't let him go through that again."

"Whatever, look, I'm going to drive Shawn over to his Dad's, make sure he gets there okay. I'll see you." Lassiter stood up and left. Gus was alone at the table, staring into a meal he no longer wanted.

* * *

Shawn was sitting in the passenger seat by the time Lassiter got to his car. Which was odd, because Lassiter had the keys...

"So help me, if you've wrecked the lock..."

"Please. You need better security on this thing. And not a mark on it."

"Are you sure you want to stay at Henry's? I mean, you don't get along at the best of times."

"He'll feed me, and then he'll leave me alone. He won't treat me with kid gloves, either. Right now, I could really use a good fight with Dad. Otherwise, I'm just going to yell at you or Gus."

"Was it really that bad at therapy?"

Shawn thought about it for a moment, letting the noise of the engine wash over him. Lassiter concentrated on driving, letting Shawn think.

"It wasn't... bad, exactly," he said, finally. "It's painful, and hard, and it's like ripping off a scab. And everyone seems to think I should be taking drugs, and maybe I should be. But I hate taking pills, ever since I was a kid, and Prozac or whatever will just mess my head up even more. I need to be able to think."

"Did the shrink say that you needed pills?"

Shawn noted the tightening of the hands upon the steering wheel.

"He didn't exactly say that... but he did threaten to have me committed for 72 hours if I didn't take a nap!" Shawn sounded so indignant that Lassiter couldn't help but laugh. "But Gus thinks I need pills, and Dr Foster, and then I went to see Father Michael. And he was useless! 'Time heals all wounds!' Yeah, right. I half expected him to say 'The Lord moves in mysterious ways!'"

"Shawn..." Lassiter felt bad for laughing, but he had no idea what to say to Shawn.

"It's fine. Just... I just need to get my head together, and I can do that at Dad's."

"Okay. If you're sure that's what you want."

They pulled up in front of Henry's house.

Shawn went up to his room and shut himself in.

He didn't say hello to his father.

He didn't pass go, and he didn't collect 2 hundred dollars.

"What's going on?" Henry asked, as Hurricane Shawn breezed straight past him and up the stairs, his passage through the house culminating in a slammed door.

"He had a bad day," Lassiter shrugged.

"Right. Fine. I take it he's staying here tonight?"

"Yes sir, if that's alright?"

"As long as he doesn't expect me to get all touchy feely and fuss over him like his mother would."

Lassiter smiled.

* * *

Lassiter didn't want to go home. It was odd. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe just because he'd been staying at Shawn's for the past few nights. His things were there. And his house... it felt empty, in a way that Shawn's colourful apartment (and former dry cleaners) never did.

He told himself that he needed to keep an eye on Shawn's place. Someone had already left a threatening note on the door. They might come back and do some real damage whilst Shawn was at his father's. He told himself it had nothing to do with wanting to be with Shawn, because he didn't want to be with Shawn, Shawn was annoying, and not at his apartment anyway. He was so busy rationalising why he was walking up to Shawn's front door rather than his own, that he didn't notice the men in the shadows.

* * *

Shawn sat on his bed with a pillow hugged up against his chest. He knew he was screwed up. He'd been screwed up most of his life. Both his parents had told him so often enough. They'd finally given up on therapy when Shawn had started helping the doctors diagnose their other patients. He was 7.

He'd always had trouble sleeping, and when he did sleep he often had nightmares, and even night terrors. Dreaming is your brains way of sorting the information it's received during the day, processing it into memory. Now, imagine that you remember every tiny detail that you see. All your dreams would be so vivid, and the littlest thing could lead to nightmares.

Why do you think Shawn acts such a fool? It's a technique for coping with the way his brain works.

* * *

Lassiter was dazed by the first blow and couldn't get up. he got a hand on his gun, but it was knocked away with a laugh. He could hear a cat, crying. The impact of a boot in his ribs. He found himself looking at a trickle of bloody drool on the pavement.

_That's my blood, _he thought abstractly.

* * *

Shawn knew he was screwed up, but he hated other people knowing that he was screwed up. what he hated more than anything was people _telling _him he was screwed up, as if he didn't realise he was a freak.

He rolled onto his side, facing the wall.

It all just seemed so pointless. Everyone thought he should be drugged, the bad guys were going to get away with it, and he was losing it. He was really losing it. He couldn't count hats the other day. He'd been able to count hats for as long as he could remember, and being Shawn, that was a very long time.

Lassiter mercifully lost consciousness before the broken rib pierced his left lung. He wasn't awake to feel the splintering of the bones in his gun hand. He also didn't hear the woman scream, the sirens arrive, and the horrified gasp of Buzz McNabb as he arrived on scene. He didn't see the piece of paper, stained with his own blood, left pinned to his chest.

Shawn was in a world of his own. He was staring at a crack in the paint on the wall. It was a very interesting crack. Shawn was as close as he evr was to thinking about nothing. His tired, depressed brain was just repeating really un-motivating mantras over and over again.

_It doesn't mean anything. It all just goes away. Maybe you really are crazy. They're going to get away with what they did to you, just like before. Nobody cares. It doesn't mean anything. it all just goes away..._

Distantly, his mind registered the ringing of the phone. His father's voice. A moment later, the door to his room opened, and a weight made the edge of the bed sink a little.

"Shawn?" He didn't answer. "Shawn, you need to listen to me." A hand on his shoulder, rolling him over so he had to look into his father's pale and worried face. "It's Carlton."

For a brief moment, Shawn thought he meant on the phone, and looked for the cordless handset, but then his brain caught up, and his heart started pounding.

"What?"

"He's been attacked..." Henry was still talking but all Shawn could hear was the rush of his own blood.

Lassiter had been attacked. Lassiter was the strong one, the one with the gun and he'd been attacked. Maybe killed. _This is__ my fault¸ _Shawn thought. _If I hadn't asked to stay here... he was alone, and they hurt him..._

"Shawn! Calm down! Breathe, dammit!" Henry's hands were still on Shawn's shoulders, but holding him down. The younger man was in the midst of a full blow panic attack.

"How bad?" he gasped out.

"I don't know. They got him outside your apartment, but what he was doing there... they're taking him to St Marys."

"We have to go." Shawn pushed his father's hands away and stood up, swaying a little at the head rush he'd gotten from hyperventilating. "We have to go now."

* * *

Henry was worried. They were sitting in the hospital waiting room, and since he ordered that they had to go, he hadn't said a word. He was acting like some sort of robot. He followed along behind his father, and sat where he was put. He didn't fidget or pace, or chatter at a hundred miles per hour. At first it was a nice change, silence. But this wasn't Shawn.

Juliet had tried talking to him, but he didn't say a word. He'd barely looked at her. Gus had been called and was sitting in the chair beside his friend. They were ignoring each other, although Gus had tentatively said hello, but Shawn hadn't acknowledged him either.

It was when Buzz came in, clutching a pet carrier that Shawn had actually seemed to perk up a little. He didn't speak still, but his eyes were tracking and he held out his hands for the precious object. From inside the cage came a pitiful mewling.

"They tried to kill Tribble." Buzz explained.

"LGC? They tried to kill her? How?" Jules was shocked.

"From what we can tell, she leaped on the attackers, when they had Detective Lassiter on the ground, scratched 'em up good. One of them grabbed her and forced her into a box and they all kicked it and threw it around. She's pretty bruised up, and when we got there, she was unconscious. We didn't even know if she was dead or alive until we opened the box." Shawn hugged the cage closer and put his fingers through the bars, running them along LGC's fur. "I ran her by the vet, and he said to keep an eye on her, because she might have a concussion, and not to let her outside. But he thinks she's going to be just fine. I think she saved Lassiter's life."

No one said it, but more than one of them was thinking it. _If he survives..._

Francine showed up minutes later with cookies and a Thermos full of good coffee. She also had a travel bowl and basket for Tribble and a bag of cat treats 'for the hero'.

Vick didn't get there until later. She'd been grilling the suspects, she explained.

"You caught them?" It was the first thing any of them had heard Shawn say, and they all looked shocked. His voice croaked a little, and his eyes were full of hope.

"Yeah," Vick frowned, as everyone cheered just a little at that news, "but they're just thugs for hire. Someone came up to them as they exited a bar after being asked to leave for rowdy behaviour. They gave them a hundred each if they agreed to come to your apartment and beat up you and Lassiter."

"It has to be them," Shawn said in a weary monotone.

"Probably, but none of them can describe the guy who hired them. And they've arranged it so that they'll have alibis for the time of the attack."

"I hate them." It was barely a mutter, and only Gus and Tribble heard him. "They hurt Lassie. They hurt my cat."

* * *

"Family of Detective Lassiter?" a doctor said. It's been hours, and they're half sure their friend is dead.

"That's us," Vick said, and if her voice wavered just a little, we can forgive her.

"He's alright. For now. He has broken his right wrist, and hand. A nasty concussion to go with a skull fracture. He reopened the injuries to his spleen, and has additional wounds to his kidneys. The internal bleeding was pretty bad, but we got it under control. He's broken nearly all his ribs, and one pierced his left lung. It was touch and go, but he's stable, for now."

"He's alive?" Shawn had been so sure that Lassie was dead, that they'd killed him.

"Yes, very much so. He's in a coma right now though, and we aren't sure if there will be any brain damage. The next twenty four hours are critical, but I'd say that if he survives the night, he has a fighting chance."

"What about his hand?" it's Juliet who asks. "Will it be crippled?" She's imagining Lassiter unable to shoot.

"There may be some reduced movement, and nerve damage, and he may need additional surgery, but at this point, it looks like it will heal just fine."

Everyone began talking about how Lassiter might be crippled, and might still die, and things like that, but Shawn just stared down at LGC. Lassiter was alive. And that was good enough for him.

* * *

**okay, so probably a long wait again before the next one. sorry. but at least i didn't stop it with Lassie bleeding on the pavement...**

**Also, it feels like it's getting unexpectedly slashy. i promised to keep 4 o'clock gen at the request of some readers, but this one i feel like it should end in slash. what do you think? I will be taking votes...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Apparently sleep is beyond me at the moment, so I decided to be constructive with the night. Here's a new chapter, way earlier than I expected. Sorry about the self pity in my notes last time. I just hate feeling helpless. **

**Oh, and as for slash/notslash, we're tied, two for two. Helpful people!**

**

* * *

**

She stepped out into chaos. She couldn't deal with this right now, she was late, and already angry and upset from the sight of her best detective lying there, battered and broken.

"Chief, is there any truth to...?"

"No comment."

"Do you really expect us to...?"

"No comment."

"Did the 'psychic really spend the night...?"

"No comment."

"Are they in a relationship?"

"No comment!"

"You expect us to trust the charlatan over...?"

"No comment!"

She fought her way away from the hospital through the sea of parasites waiting by the front door. Sometimes, she hated her job.

She was overdue at the courthouse, and was dreading that appointment.

* * *

Shawn had sat beside the bed all through the night. Buzz and a young officer called Simon something were standing guard by the door. They'd tried to get Shawn to go home, but he just sat there, clutching Tribble on his lap. They'd tried to get him to sleep, but he didn't need sleep. He laughed at sleep, and farted in it's general direction.

He had to stay awake. It wasn't safe.

As it got close to midnight, he felt himself drifting, and he used the tricks he'd had as a teenager to keep himself together.

"T'was brillig, and the slivy toves,  
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.  
All mimsy were the borogroves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock my son,  
The jaws that snatch, the claws that catch,  
Beware the Jub Jub bird and shun,  
The frumious bandersnatch..."

He recited nonsense poems and song lyrics, in a croaking lilt, to himself and to Lassiter. He'd found that if he was reciting something, he didn't have room for other thoughts. And that was a very good thing.

"...he took his vorpal sword in hand,  
Long time the manxome foe he sought,  
Till rested he by the tum tum tree,  
And stood a while in thought.

But while in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came.

One, two, one two, and through and through,  
His vorpal blade went snicker snack.  
He left it dead and with it's head  
He went galumphing back.

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?  
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
Oh frabjous day! Calloo! Callay!  
He chortled in his joy.

T'was brillig and the slivy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.  
All mimsy were the borogroves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Somehow, Jabberwocky seemed fitting. He said it a good dozen times before moving on, to 'Take on me'.

* * *

When Lassiter opened his eyes, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. First off, he couldn't see anything out of his right eye, which didn't seem right. There was also a gang of floating pineapples tied to the end of his bed with ribbon. He watched them bob around in the air current from the vents for a few minutes, before following the ribbon down to the bottom of his bed. He didn't remember his bed having a rail on it.

There was a Tupperware box on the little table, and a stack of cards.

It was then that he realised that this wasn't his bedroom. His room wasn't that odd off white colour, and it didn't smell of antiseptics. His room didn't have background noise of a really annoying incessant bleeping.

His room also didn't normally have Shawn Spencer sitting by the head of the bed, fast asleep, with a cat box on his knee from which a faint rumbling purr could be heard.

It was about then that he realised he was in hospital.

Everything came flooding back to him.

Everything.

He looked hard at Shawn, trying to tell if he'd been hurt as well, but he couldn't see a mark on him.

He decided to take a self inventory and figure the rest out when Shawn woke up, or when someone else came in.

His chest hurt the worst. His arm was up in some kind of weird sling device, up above his head. It didn't hurt though, and he wondered if he should be worried about that. His head felt like there was a nail through it, and he still couldn't see out his right eye. His legs seemed remarkably unscathed. Just a general ache.

He'd body felt suddenly heavy, and everything felt distant. He let his eyes fall closed... at least, his left eye. He wasn't sure about his right.

He'd figure it out when he wasn't so tired...

* * *

Shawn opened his eyes. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, and he clutched the cat box tighter to him, needing something to hold onto. It was the first day of the trial. It was the first day of the trial and here he was, sitting in a hospital ward. It was the first day of the trial, and Lassiter was still asleep.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, these men, these poor, wrongly accused men, are all highly respected members of the community. Officers of the law. There is no physical evidence against them. All we have is the word of a 'psychic'. A man who's lifestyle and history speaks for itself. A drifter, who claims to have been harassed by these men for a long time. I put it to you that Shawn Spencer needs to be at the centre of attention. He manipulated these men into becoming his pawns.

Look at his history. The things he's done, the situations he's gotten himself into. Even if you do believe in "psychics" then you must see that he is desperate for attention, and this whole trial is a ploy hatched with his lover and partner in a terrible, immoral, and unnatural relationship, Carlton Lassiter, to restore Spencer to the centre of attention." The Lawyer looked along the row of jururs greedily eating up every word. "And by immoral, I don't mean their gay relationship, oh no. I have nothing against ho-mo-sexuals." He said it like that, as though it were three words. "I mean the sickness of an abusive relationship, in which Shawn is the submissive party. In this trial, I will prove my clients innocent beyond reasonable doubt, and I will also prove that Lassiter and Spencer are very sick individuals, who need help."

* * *

Henry and Gus walked onto the ward.

"He's been here all night?"

"Yeah. McNabb and O'Hara stayed too, out in the waiting room.

"He doesn't even like Lassiter." Gus was understandably confused.

"I think he just needed a distraction. The trial started today."

They went into Lassiter's room and found Shawn sitting by the bed, he was talking quietly, and they stopped to listen.

"I'm sorry. I was mad and upset, and I just needed some space. I should have gone back with you to my place. You were there to keep an eye on me, make sure I don't get killed. But I just... I told you once that when things go bad, I go away. It's taking everything I have not to just run as fast as I can, as far as I can. And a big part of why I'm staying is because of you. Because you were there, and it happened to you too. And if I run now, I'll just be leaving you to cope by yourself, and I don't want to do that. I don't want to be that selfish." He fell silent for a moment, and Gus took a single step forwards, but Shawn started talking again. "So, you don't get to do this. You don't get to leave me to cope by myself. I didn't run, so you have to wake up. Because I don't think I can do this again. Not by myself."

"Again?" It was a growl from Mr Spencer.

* * *

"These three men had been harassing Mr Spencer for weeks before the kidnapping. He was assaulted more than once, all on a rumour spread by a proven dirty cop, and the fact that he was a better cop than any of them. And he's not even a cop! He's a consultant with a 100% solve rate! He should have been safe among the members of our law enforcement community, but instead he was treated with scorn and abuse by those he was trying to help!

The defence wants you to believe that Shawn craves violence, and wanted the assault to take place!

During the course of this trial, I shall prove that the defendants wilfully, maliciously, and with premeditation, abducted Mr Spencer and Head Detective Lassiter, and abused and tortured them. I will even go so far as to say, they attempted to kill them!"

* * *

"What exactly did you mean by again?" Henry's voice was tightly controlled, and Shawn flicked his eyes to Gus in a panic.

"He was talking about Drimmer!" Gus said, thanking God for the inspiration. "And that time he was kidnapped and shot and tied up, when he kicked out the tail light!"

"Yeah! That's what I was talking about, especially Drimmer. Because it was someone I trusted turning on me and that's what happened here. Right?"

"Right..." Henry didn't look convinced.

"He won't wake up." Shawn sounded like a kid, and his eyes were all big and puppy dog-ish.

"Has the doctor seen him yet this morning?" Gus asked, going to his friend's side.

"Yeah. He said it looked promising, that the brain activity was getting stronger."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah. And the doc said there's no sign of infection yet."

"Are you going to stay here again tonight?" Henry asked.

"I'm not sure yet."

Both Henry and Gus were worried because there was a gaggle of reporters gathered at the hospital entrance. They didn't want Shawn to leave because he'd get hassled. But if he stayed, it gave credence to the idea that Shawn and Lassiter were a couple.

"Let's wait and see how he is." Gus suggested, glaring at Henry.

Shawn looked from one to the other, unsure of what was going on, but then he didn't care, because Lassiter's eyes were open, and he was looking right at Shawn.

* * *

**i don't own Jabberwocky (but i think it's out of copyright anyway). I typed it from memory, so if i got it a bit wrong, sorry. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, first things first. My reviewers vote. Drum roll please...**

**And the results are...**

**Slash:11**

**NotSlash:10. **

**And the last slash vote only came in very recently. Is close. V close. So, what I'm proposing is that I keep it ambiguous, and do a slash epilogue. That way I can tell the not slashers when to stop reading. How do we feel about that? **

**I also have a Shassie story in the works, which I shall start posting soon, in which Shawn wakes up (hurt) on his living room floor with no memory of the day before. All he does know is that he doesn't want Gus to call Lassiter. So, those who want slash can enjoy that. **

**This chapter goes out to CrazyInLoveWithStabler for the kick in the pants, and to the Anonymous one who gave me the honour of their very first review! And such a lovely review it was too **

**Sorry it's been so long. Uni is crazy, and I've been working on my first assignment, a close reading of two medieval lyrics. Which is actually very interesting, but doing the secondary reading, and analysing, and typing up, redrafting, kind of sucked up all my free time. Plus this year, I don't get a day off during the week, whereas I got 2 days off last year, which is when I did most of my fanfic writing.**

**

* * *

**

Lassiter knew he was in hospital before he opened his eyes this time. He had a vague recollection of waking before, and he could hear the steady beep of the monitor. The smell of the antiseptic made him wrinkle his nose. He gradually became aware of a constant sound. A voice, talking. Somehow, he knew that it had been there the whole time he was asleep. He had an urge to ask what a 'slivy tove' was, but he didn't know why.

"...you don't get to do this. You don't get to leave me to cope by myself. I didn't run, so you have to wake up. Because I don't think I can do this again. Not by myself."

Shawn.

"Again?" That was Mr Spencer.

They spoke for some moments, and he lost track of the conversation. The next thing he was clearly aware of was Shawn meeting his eyes. Or rather his eye. He still couldn't see with his right one.

"Lassie?" Shawn's voice was almost a whisper, as though he was afraid speaking normally would shatter the illusion that Lassiter was conscious. Lassiter tried to say something reassuring, but all that came out was a dry croak.

"I'll get the doctor." Gus went to do just that.

Shawn put a spoonful of ice chips to Lassiter's mouth. The motion jostled the box on the younger man's lap, and the cat inside gave a pitiful mew.

* * *

"So, Officer, what can you tell me about Shawn Spencer?"

"Spencer?" Randolf snorted. "He's a freak, and a fake. He's defrauding the CBPD."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He claims to be a psychic. He's a con man."

"You don't believe in psychics?"

"No. His dad was a cop. It's obvious where he gets his detective skills from. He shouldn't be allowed to pretend, to pray on the susceptible."

"So, you're saying that Shawn Spencer is a liar?"

"Objection."

"It goes towards credibility, your Honour."

"Overruled."

"He is a liar, and a con man. He lies about everything, just to get what he wants."

* * *

Lassiter's doctor had come in and was doing an exam.

"I can't see out of my right eye." Lassiter's voices was hoarse and a little shaky. Shawn tensed, and Henry and Gus both looked understandably alarmed.

"Hmm. I was afraid of that. You have a sub-arachnoid haematoma which is putting pressure on your optic nerve. It's possible that you'll recover your vision as the swelling goes down... but it's also possible that the damage has already been done. That the optic nerve has atrophied. We can only wait and see."

Lassiter swallowed hard.

"What about my arm?"

"Let's see."He brushed against the tips of Lassiter's fingers, where they protruded from the cast. "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah." The doctor smiled. "But it feels like I'm wearing really thick gloves."

"That's probably the painkillers. You'll need physio therapy for a while, but I'm confident that if there's any nerve damage, it's minimal. You should regain a full range of motion in due time."

Lassiter snorted. The Doctor was being _so_ reassuring. Of course, that started a coughing fit which hurt. a lot. His ribs were pretty much all shattered, and he had a drain going into the left side of his torso, removing the blood from his chest cavity. His left lung had been repaired, but it was very tender, and just breathing deeply hurt. Coughing sent shocking stabs of pain through his chest.

The medical personnel buzzed around him, trying to make him more comfortable. Lassiter found it annoying, and decided he had to get better as soon as possible, just to get away from them. Past the Doctors and the nurses, he met Shawn's worried gaze, taking in the psychic's pale face. Another reason for Lassiter to get better quickly.

* * *

"You claim that Shawn is lying about the attacks?"

"He is."

"He has several injuries which he claims you gave him, prior to the abduction. What explanation do you have for these injuries?"

"He's dating Lassiter. Everyone knows it. They framed a cop in the Gang Unit to cover up for their illicit relationship. They're into all that weird stuff, and Spencer lets Lassiter beat him up."

"Objection."

"What grounds?"

"Hearsay."

"Sustained."

"Your sight's going to come back. It has to." Shawn had his hand on the sheet next to Lassiter's.

"I hope so. I didn't even see them. I was being such an idiot. I'm not even sure why I went to your place. I should have just gone home, and this wouldn't have happened."

"Hey, none of this was your fault."

Lassiter took a long look at Shawn.

"You look like shit."

"Hey!"

"It's true. You've got dark eyes under your eyes, you're pale and your hands are shaking. And your clothes are filthy and rumpled. You smell. Go home, get changed and get some rest."

"I don't..." Shawn didn't want to say it. What if Lassiter got worse? What if _they_ attacked him while he was in the hospital, and weak? And how could Shawn go home on his own? They might... he shook his head.

"Get Henry and Guster to stay with you." Lassiter knew why Shawn was scared.

"I don't want to go back there." It was said in such a small voice that Lassiter almost missed it.

"It's your home, Shawn. You can't let these bastards drive you out of it."

"I move every few months anyway. It wouldn't be that big a deal."

He tried to shrug it off.

Shawn hated feeling vulnerable like this. He hated that Lassiter, who was in a hospital bed for crying out loud, had to comfort him, when it should really be the other way around.

His whole life he'd been hiding behind massive barriers, that's why he acts the way he does. He hates people seeing the real him because then they can hurt the real him. As long as they're only annoyed with the facade, whatever they do or say can't actually get to him.

But right now, he was exposed. And that was raw and scary.

* * *

"You think that Shawn Spencer is a fake?" The prosecution asked.

"Well, d'uh. I answered that already."

"Mr Randolf, please remember that you are in court."

"My apologies, your Honour."

"How many cases has Mr Spencer solved for the department?"

"I don't know. 40 odd?"

"And you still claim that he's a fake? So, he's just a better detective than everybody in your department?"

There was a titter of laughter from the jury.

"I don't know how he does it. He probably has an inside source or something."

"Hmm. Are you familiar with the name Hiltenbock?"

"Yeah, he was a psycho forcing people to kill themselves."

"And how was that case solved?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Your honour?"

"Answer the question, Mr Randolf."

"Fine. Shawn Spencer solved it."

"How?"

"By talking to a cat." Randolf rolled his eyes. There was another round of laughter.

"And the case of Christopher Franzen?"

"The palaeontologist who fell into a T Rex's mouth."

"And who solved that?"

"Shawn Spencer." Randolf sounded pretty pissed off this time.

"And how quickly did he know a dinosaur was involved?"

"Pretty much immediately, he knew as soon as he saw the body."

"Your Honour, I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning." The defence objected.

"Goes towards credibility."

"Very well, I'll allow it. But you're on thin ice."

"Yes sir." The lawyer turned back to the man in the dock. "How could an inside source tell Mr Spencer that a dinosaur killed Mr Franzen? Especially when at that point there was no evidence that the victim was in anyway related to dinosaurs?"

"I don't know how he does it, all I know is that there's no such thing as psychics!"

"Hmm. Mr Randolf, would you call yourself a Christian?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose so. I don't go to church regularly..."

"But you believe in God?"

"Objection, relevance!" Defence was getting worried.

"Please, Your Honour, a little leeway. I promise that my next question will clear this up."

"Answer the question, Mr Randolf."

"Yes, I believe in God." He sounded downright pissed off.

"And the Bible?"

"Sure."

"Well, then. You believe in psychics. The bible specifically mentions psychics, in Leviticus and Deuteronomy. So why don't you believe in them?"

"The bible condemns them!" Randolf cried out. "It says that psychics talk to demons. And there's a lot of good stuff in the bible, stuff I believe in whole heartedly. But there's also a lot of crap." A gasp of shock from the jury and upset murmurings from the gallery.

"Mr Randolf!" The judge frowned. The murmurings got louder and more upset. He banged his gavel. "Order! Or I'll have the gallery cleared."

"Don't get me wrong, I think religion's great, and I do believe in God. But look at some of the laws in the bible. It says we shouldn't eat shellfish, that we shouldn't wear two different types of cloth, it says we should treat immigrants like everybody else!" Randolf ranted. He wasn't actually that much of a believer, but his father had been a priest who had forced his son to learn bible passages by heart. "And Mr Stone," he addressed the prosecution, "I don't think you really want to talk about the bible in relation to your client the psychic. For it says in Leviticus 20:27 'A man also, or woman who is a medium or a spiritualist, shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones and their bloodguiltiness is upon them.'"

Shit. That kind of backfired on poor Prosecutor Stone.

* * *

Shawn had been in the bathroom when it happened. He'd suddenly got angry. He'd realised what he was doing. How he was letting them rule his life. He hadn't let the first rape (the worst rape) make him into some housebound wallflower, and there was no way he was going to let this... this... trauma do to him what the Psycho couldn't.

He washed his hands and stormed through the hospital towards the exit. He would go home, get changed and head to the station, connect with his friends. Then he'd go shopping, get groceries. Maybe go out for dinner with Gus (Jerk Chicken).

"Shawn?" That was Buzz. "Shawn, wait. Stop for a minute."

Shawn kept walking. If he stopped, he might calm down. If he calmed down then the fear would come back. The anger was eating it all up.

"Shawn, wait!"

He slammed out of the hospital's front door.

"Mr Spencer-"

"How do you-"

"Is Detective Lassiter-"

"-the trial-"

"Are you-"

Shawn blinked.

* * *

**The medical stuff... it's correct as far as I could find out, but I might have made mistakes. The biblical references are all real, from Leviticus. **

**Hope it's alright. Next chapter... might be awhile. Again. **


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry. It isn't very long, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I figure y'all have waited long enough. I have three assignments due in in the next three weeks, and I'm tired and fed up, and haven't had chance to go xmas shopping yet. Also, my pen leaked all over my hands and one of my assignment drafts. Which was just the icing on the cake. **

**The only reason I'm updating now, is I had to take a break from researching Chaucer before my brain exploded. Hopefully, won't be as long a wait for the next one, because after I hand these assignments in, I should have plenty of time. But, I ask again for your patience if it takes me a little longer. **

**Enjoy.**

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* * *

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There were questions flying at Shawn from all directions, and he was completely overwhelmed. He held a hand up, partly to shield his eyes from the camera lights, and partly to stop the barrage.

"Enough!" Buzz McNabb was snarling. Actually snarling. Shawn had never seen him so much as growl before, and there he was, snarling. He took Shawn's arm in a deceptively gentle grip, and pulled him back into the safety of the hospital.

"What?" Shawn was a little shell shocked.

"The trial's started, and it's all the news is talking about, especially with the attack on Detective Lassiter."

"I..." Shawn ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't even think about that."

His pro-active plan was starting to feel a bit stupid.

"Where were you going?" Buzz sounded angry, and Shawn flinched back a little. McNabb immediately felt bad. "Sorry, I just... it's not safe."

"I know. Don't you think I know that? I'm fed up of looking over my shoulder all the time. I just wanted..." He sighed. "I wanted to claim my life back. At least a little bit. I don't want them to win."

"They won't win," Buzz said definitively. "We won't let them."

"I..." he looked towards the door. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to leave, but suddenly he was terrified. It was like every time he felt good, felt better, something came along to knock him back down. A note on the door, an attack on Lassie, and now these damn reporters.

How was he supposed to deal when everything was skewed against him?

"Shawn?" Buzz said worriedly, and by the tone he'd already said it more than once. "Shawn, you with me here?"

Shawn was tempted just to slide down the nice solid wall behind him and sit on the floor. He was tired. Tired in his bones. He wanted it to be over.

"Come on, let's get you back to Lassiter," Buzz's voice was as gentle as the guiding hand on his elbow, and Shawn decided just to let Buzz take control until he could think again.

_Huh, _ he thought as they entered Lassiter's room. _I left the cat in here._

He was guided to _his_ chair. The chair he'd been sitting in since Lassiter had been brought in, and he laid his head down on the bed beside Lassiter's arm.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard someone ask over his head, and he thought it was nice that someone cared, before everything went black.

"Well?" Lassiter asked, and Buzz told himself that it was ridiculous feeling nervous, the man was in a hospital bed. What was he going to do?

"I don't know. I think it's the shock. He wandered outside, and the press..."

"Damn it!" Lassiter couldn't shout very well, he'd barely spoken in days, but he made a good effort. It hurt his ribs. "Why did you let him go out by himself?"

"I'm supposed to be protecting you!" Buzz shouted back, and then flinched. He was shouting at his superior officer, who was laid up in a hospital bed. "Sorry, sir. I tried to stop him..."

"Loud!" Shawn complained, scrunching up his shoulders.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have shouted." He let his good hand rest on Shawn's head, just for a moment. "You want to get the doctor, he doesn't seem..."

"Oh!" Buzz nodded and ran to the door, before Lassiter could even finish his sentence. He shook his head, ruefully, then regretted it.

"Ow."

The doctor told Shawn off, even though Shawn was rapidly falling unconscious. He tried to have Shawn moved to another room, but Buzz was the only protection they had, and he couldn't protect both of them if they were in different rooms. Another officer was supposed to be by later, but they was a little short on man power. The doctor finally compromised and brought in a rollaway bed for the fake psychic.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Exhaustion. He hasn't slept since they brought you in, and he's barely eaten. He hasn't fully recovered yet, and his body can't take this sort of abuse." The doctor shook his head. "I'm willing to leave the rollaway in here for the duration of your stay here, but if anyone asks, it's because cops want to protect you both. Understand? It's against protocol."

"Fair enough." Lassiter smiled as the doctor and Buzz helped Shawn down onto the bed. He snuggled into the blankets, with a little sigh.

"He needs to eat, and not to overexert himself." He shook his head. "But I don't think you're going to convince him to go home anytime soon."

* * *

Karen Vick and Juliet O'Hara sat in the office, with the Prosecutor.

"I'm sorry about that," he said.

"How can they say things like that?" Juliet was shocked, although why, I don't know. she knew that Randolf was scum, and evil, and hated Shawn, so she should have expected that he would spew such crap.

"I know it's hard. But this might actually worked in our favour. The jury will see that he's a terrible person, hopefully."

"When will Mr Spencer have to testify?" Karen asked.

"Probably in the next couple of days. He's on the prosecution and the defence list." Stone shook his head. "I wish there was some way I could work it that the Kid didn't have to testify."

He knew Shawn, not well, but a lot of his cases had been built on Shawn's psychic instincts.

"I think we all wish that." Karen sighed.

"They're going to take him apart, aren't they?" Juliet looked at her hands, twisting in her lap. "He doesn't deserve it. I mean, no one does, but him least of all."

"Without him, we barely have a case. And the defence aren't going to just let him sit out."

Stone felt guilty about forcing Shawn and Lassiter (if he got out of hospital in time) to endure this, but it really was the only way. He just hoped his opponent wouldn't be too obnoxious.

* * *

Shawn slept. And he dreamt.

_He was in the hospital, wandering the corridors. It was completely deserted. He got to Lassiter's room, but Lassiter isn't there either. But his bed is drenched in blood. Shawn stands there, staring._

"_It's your fault, Shawn," Juliet said from behind him._

"_Lassiter's dead because of you!" Karen Vick added. "He was my best Detective."_

"_What were you thinking Shawn? Are you really this stupid? You let Lassiter get killed!" That was Henry. _

"_I... He's not..." Shawn tried to defend himself. He looked at the blood stained bed. "He's not dead! He's not!"_

"_He's only sleeping?" Gus said, coming to stand by Henry. His arms were folded across his chest and one eyebrow was raised derisively. _

"_That's right! He's __not_ _dead!" _

"_I beg to differ, Mr. Spencer." Dr Foster was there suddenly, holding up a limp blue Lassiter. "This is most certainly an ex-Lassiter." _

Shawn woke with a start. He'd only been asleep for about an hour.

He immediately looked towards the bed, and gave a relieved sigh when he saw that Lassiter was still there.

"You idiot," Carlton told him quietly.

"Actually, I'm a genius. I thought I told you that!" Shawn quipped back, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"And I might believe it if you didn't do such monumentally stupid things. I mean, sweet justice, Spencer!"

"What? What did I do?" Shawn thought for a moment. "All I wanted was to go home."

"What?" Lassiter shook his head. "I don't mean you leaving the hospital, although, yeah. That was stupid. Buzz was here for your protection too."

"I know, I'm sorry." Shawn did look shamefaced.

"I was talking about you not sleeping for God knows how long, and not eating properly! DO you want to do those bastards job for them?"

"I couldn't just leave you." Shawn picked Tribble out of her carrier, and hugged her to his chest. She mewed a little, then nuzzled his chin and purred. "We have to look out for each other. If we don't, who will?"

Lassiter sighed.

"You aren't as alone as you think you are."

Shawn smiled.

"I know. I have Gus, I have Jules, the Chief. I have you, and Tribble, and Buzz. God help me, I even have my father. But they don't... they can't..." He frowned. "I don't know how to explain it."

"I understand," Lassiter assured. Shawn looked at him doubtfully, but the truth was, Lassiter did understand him.

They'd been through an experience together, that bound them to each other. There's a Chinese proverb about being responsible for someone after you've saved their life. That's what it was like. They'd been through a life changing experience together, and each was responsible for the other.

* * *

**Again, apologies for my tardiness. I hope it was worth the wait. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Again, apologies for the delay. **

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Shawn slept, deep and heavy. He didn't dream again. Lassiter kept an eye on him, and Officer Allan was standing in the doorway with Buzz. He didn't wake up until the following morning.

His father was there when he awoke.

"Shawn."

"Dad." They looked at each other for a long moment.

"What happened?" Henry asked, motioning to the bed. He was proud of how he kept his voice level and calm. He'd almost started yelling the second he got to the hospital and saw his kid back in a hospital bed.

"I just ran myself down. Got exhausted." Shawn matched his father's tone. "It's okay. Really. Plus, this way, the cops can keep an eye on both of us at once."

"I suppose."

They sat in silence for a long moment. Lassiter was still asleep.

"How come you're always here? How come Lassiter's family haven't visited him?"

"They have. You were asleep. At least this last time. The first time, you were awake, just out of it."

"Oh." He looked down at his blanket-covered lap.

Silence reigned again.

_It shouldn't be this awkward._ Shawn thought. _I should be able to have a regular, none arguing conversation with my Dad._

_

* * *

_

Henry stayed for the whole day. They didn't talk much, an awkward conversation about fishing with Lassiter, a brief chat about Madeleine, which they stopped before they could get into a fight. It was all going really well.

"You're supposed to testify tomorrow," Henry ruined the pleasant mood, while Lassiter was off having a test done.

"I know."

"I'll be there."

"You will?"

"Of course."

Shawn wasn't quite sure what to feel about this. He was glad that his dad wanted to support him, but did he really want to describe what happened to him, in detail, with his dad sitting right there?

"Dad," he paused, unsure of what to say. "I... appreciate that."

"But?"

"But, I don't know if I can talk about this with you there."

Henry restrained his usual urge to shout first and think later. He considered what Shawn was saying. He thought of all the times he'd kept Maddy and Shawn away from the bad things to do with his job. His kid was trying to protect him. That was sweet, and oh so wrong.

"Shawn, I'm the dad. I'm supposed to look after you, protect you. Not the other way round."

Shawn gave a small laugh.

"I'm not trying to protect you, Dad." He was. "I'm trying to protect myself."

* * *

The next day dawned far too early. It was bright and sunny and completely anti-climatic.

Shawn was standing by the window, looking out at the day.

"Shawn?"

"Hey Buzz." Shawn didn't turn around. "What ever happened to pathetic fallacy?"

"Huh?"

"You know, when the weather reflects the mood. My English teacher would go on and on about it. Like when it rains at funerals."

"Um..."

"I mean, it shouldn't be sunny. Really."

"I have your suit for you. Juliet brought it over." Buzz decided to just ignore the odd comments and handed over the garment bag. Shawn smiled. He took the bag, and glanced at Lassiter.

"Take care of him, Buzz. Don't let anyone hurt him."

"He'll be fine." Buzz looked at him carefully. "Will you?"

"I don't know. but I'm willing to find out." Shawn smiled again and went into the small bathroom to change.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the courthouse...

"I have a good feeling. I'm sure that as soon as they actually hear from Shawn, we'll be fine."

"Really?" Juliet looked at the Prosecutor hopefully.

"Really." He smiled. "Shawn is very personable. He's a charming young man and I'm sure that he'll be able to convince the jury of the truth."

"Good," Chief Vick stated.

"Very." Juliet grinned.

"O'Hara, can you go and get us some coffee? I don't know when we'll have the chance, and it's set to be a long day."

"Oh. Of course." She trotted off.

Prosecutor Stone raised an eyebrow.

"Look, don't ask Mr Spencer if he's a psychic," Vick ordered as soon as Juliet was out of hearing.

"What? Why?"

"Because he won't lie on the stand."

"Excuse me? You know that he's not a psychic? Why did you hire him then?"

"No. I don't _know_ that he's not a psychic. I have my suspicions, and I know Henry Spencer well. And I hired him because he gets results. I don't really care if it's because he has visions or because he's a brilliant detective."

* * *

When Lassiter woke up, the first thing he saw was that Shawn's bed was empty. He panicked for a second. Shawn had been there every time he'd woken up. Shawn wouldn't just leave... and if he had just left, had he taken protection? He could be hurt, he could have been mobbed by reporters, he could be in trouble.

"McNabb!"

* * *

Juliet saw Shawn entering the Courthouse as she was walking back to Chief Vick with the coffees. He was flanked by Officer Allan, and another uniformed officer, a rookie whose name she couldn't quite remember.

"SHAWN!" she called. Everybody turned to look at the psychic and he flinched. She immediately felt guilty. He looked so frail, pale with dark rings beneath his eyes, and she was pretty sure he'd lost weight. The suit looked good on him though. "Sorry," she added as he got closer.

"No worries." He gave a parody of his usual smile. "I'm fine."

She hadn't asked if he was all right. She put a hand understandingly on his upper arm, juggling the hot cups.

They walked through the building together.

* * *

"Where is Shawn?"

"Um..." Buzz looked at the angry Detective sitting in front of him. He'd thought Shawn had told Lassiter that today was the day he had to testify. But no. He'd just swanned off and left it to Buzz to explain. "He's at the Courthouse."

"What?"

"He's testifying."

"Today? Wonderful. Sweet Lady Justice, he can barely stand up straight he's so tired and he's barely eaten."

Buzz frowned. He was worried too. Shawn had thrown up his breakfast in his nervousness.

"I'm sure he'll be okay." He wasn't sure at all.

"I need to be there. He can't do this alone."

"Gus is going to be there, and Detective O'Hara, and the Chief."

Lassiter didn't want to say that none of them counted, but in his mind, they didn't. They couldn't possibly understand what Shawn had been through the way that Carlton could.

"I need to be there. I promised him I would be."

"You're in hospital!"

"No, really? Go get the doctor. I want to sign out AMA."

* * *

Gus tracked Shawn down at the Courthouse. He was standing with Vick, O'Hara, a couple of uniforms, and the lawyer. Gus joined him silently. They didn't need to say anything. The door to the Courtroom opened and the people gathered there started filing in. There were a lot of reporters. Shawn swallowed hard. Gus held out his fist. Shawn bumped it with his own, took a deep breath and smiled. He walked into the courtroom as though he owned it.

They all sat.

The judge came out.

They all stood. Then sat again.

They went through the usual procedures and Shawn examined the jury closely. He knew within seconds a great deal about all of them. He knew the sort of things he'd have to say to get them onto his side.

Then Prosecutor Stone finished shuffling his papers and stood.

"The Prosecution calls Shawn Spencer to the stand!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey, look! An Update! It's a rare creature around here. **

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Shawn folded his arms around himself, and looked at Gus. Gus met his gaze and then nodded, just once, slowly. Shawn gave a half smile, and stood. He walked to the front of the room and sat in the dock.

"Hello, Mr Spencer."

"Hey." He looked at the jury, and immediately realised what each of them thought of him. it wasn't all good.

"I understand that this might be difficult for you," Prosecutor Stone said, understandingly. "But could you tell me about the harassment you suffered?"

"I..." Shawn paused, and looked at his hands. He looked back up into the crowd.

_He's not going to be able to do this. It's too soon._ Henry thought. He was sitting at the back, wearing a cap, and a fake moustache. Shawn had banned him from coming, but he had to be there for him.

_Come on, Shawn. Come on. You can do this._ Gus pushed positive thoughts out towards Shawn.

Shawn sat there, mouth moving, but nothing coming out. He couldn't talk. Not when Randolf and Truman were sitting there, staring at him.

The courtroom doors opened noisily, and Buzz wheeled Lassiter in in a wheelchair.

* * *

Shawn stared. Lassiter gave a pained half smile. Buzz shrugged apologetically.

"Mr Spencer?"

Shawn looked at Gus. He looked at Lassiter, at Karen, Buzz and Juliet. At his father (yes, he'd seen him. he used to same moustache guy as Lassie).

"Sorry." He cleared his throat. "It started as little things. The occasional comment. 'Accidentally' tripping me up. Nothing I couldn't handle. And then something changed. I'm not sure if it was something I did, or what, but suddenly three of the guys who'd been hassling me decided to gang up on me. They jumped me one night."

"Who jumped you?"

"Officers Truman, Ellis and Randolf."

"What happened then?"

"They beat me, not badly, not that first time. They told me I was scum, and that I didn't deserve to be part of the department and that I should quit while I had the chance."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I thought I could handle it. And... I'm part of the department, yes. But, I'm not a cop. I have to prove myself over and over. It's part of being a consultant paid by the job. If I admit weakness..." he shook his head.

Karen Vick bit her lower lip. Juliet fiddled with her watch strap. Lassiter sighed. He'd heard this before. Henry winced. Gus just stared.

"Then it escalated. They would jump me, leave things at my door. I had threatening messages on my answering machine, notes left at the office."

"And you still didn't tell anyone?"

"At that point, it had become normal. I almost felt like I deserved it." He shrugged. "And I thought they'd stop. I thought they'd get bored or something."

"Could you tell us about the events leading up to the kidnapping?"

"It all started at four o'clock in the morning. It's the worst time of the morning, you know? I couldn't sleep, and I'd been drinking. And for some reason, I took it into my head to go annoy Lassie... Detective Lassiter. He's fun to irritate." Shawn smiled. "I showed up on his doorstep, off my head on very good scotch, and he yelled at me, and then put me on his couch to sleep it off. I think, looking back on it, that he was worried about me. I don't drink much, so seeing me like that..." He shrugged. "It didn't occur to me at the time, but he was probably pretty freaked."

"What happened?"

"I slept on the couch. My shirt rode up at one point, and Lassiter saw the bruises on my chest."

"How did he react?"

"Angrily. Very angrily."

"With you?"

"In part. He thought I should have told someone. He was right. I was... depressed." He didn't want to say it, but it had to be said. "But he was more angry with the people who'd hurt me. We're on the same team, you know."

"And what happened then?"

"He took the day off. He asked me about the injuries. We discussed options. I was not... I didn't want to tell anyone. I still thought I could handle it. Stupid." Shawn shook his head and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, looking at the floor. "I... he convinced me to go with him to the station, that the Chief needed to know."

"And what happened then?"

"We were trying to be covert, but my Dad was there, and Juliet, and then..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Then Officer Randolf came in. He just wanted some papers signed, but we all froze. It was obvious the Chief was angry with him. I guess he figured out what was going on.

We didn't know that at the time though. We were making plans to stop them. I was going to be bait. I should have realised Randolf had figured it out. I just... I needed some space. It was too much. I went out of the office and they tried to jump me again. It was stupid. I should have stayed in the office, with the Chief."

"Can you describe the attack?"

"I..." He swallowed.

* * *

_"Hi, there Shawn." Randolf smiled. "It's good to see you're alright. I heard you got into a bit of a scrape. Got yourself hurt."  
Truman released his hold on Shawn and shoved him to the ground. He fell, bruising his knees._

_"Leave me alone." Shawn said._

_"Aw, why would you want us to do that?" Truman smirked._

_"We do our duty to the Lord."Ellis added._

_"I saw you earlier. You were in the office. With your little fanclub." Colby told him._

_"I know, because I was there."_

_"You wouldn't have told them about our little altercation, would you?" Truman asked. "Of course you did. I bet that your big bad detective, dear Lassie, noticed the bruises. What did he do, handcuff you to the bed and refuse to fuck you until you told him what happened?"_

_"No." Shawn replied. He was actually a little weird-ed out by how close Truman was to what had actually happened._

_"Yeah, I bet that's exactly what happened." Colby inserted, ignoring Shawn. "And then, ickle Shawnie here went running to Daddy."_

_"Thou shalt respect thy mother and father." John frowned. "Does your father know of the Devil inside you?"_

_"Look, I'm getting serious Criminal Minds flashbacks here. If you guys start burning fish livers, I'm out of here."_

_"Stop it!" Colby back-handed him. "You don't take anything fucking seriously, do you?"_

_"When are you going to get the message, no one wants you here! You fucking fag." Truman punctuated his statement with a kick to Shawn's ribs. Shawn curled in on himself, protecting his front-side._

_"You deserve to burn in Hell." John smiled. Then he added a kick to Shawn's unprotected back._

_"I told you not to tell anyone. There were rules. You broke them. You deserve everything you get." Colby growled._

_"You know," Truman's hands went to his own belt. "Maybe I should just fuck you."_

_"What?" Shawn croaked out. He was remembering stats he'd read on most homophobes being deeply repressed sexually. And they tended to react with sexual violence._

_"Yeah, I could ruin you, and then that faggot detective wouldn't want you around anymore. No one else cares."_

_"No, please!" Shawn protested. "Look, I'm not with Lassie, okay? He's just a guy I work with, maybe a friend, but we aren't entirely sure about that yet. And I would never sleep with him! At least, not until he removed the stick from his ass." There was a pause as everybody reflected on how badly worded that protest was._

_Truman reached into his pants, his belt already open..._

_

* * *

_

"They jumped me. Beat me up a little, Buzz... Officer McNabb interrupted them, and I got out of there."

"Were you badly hurt?"

"Some extra bruises. I was more shaken up than anything. I hadn't really been afraid until then."

"What happened next?"

"Well, Lass- Detective Lassiter decided the bait plan was too risky. I told him the risk was worth it. We had to catch them in the act, because we had no real evidence. He decided that if I was going to risk my life, I needed protection. So, I went back to his place. He is the best, and he has several guns to hand."

"And that's where you were taken from?"

"Yes."

"Can you describe that for me?"

"...Um..."

"Shawn?"

* * *

**Hope you liked it. Next chapter... is unpredictable. **


	20. Chapter 20

**Wow, oh wow, oh wow. 2 updates in one day. It's been awhile since I've been able to do this. Unpredictable is right. Although I did cheat a little, because in this and the last chapter, I put extracts from '4 O'Clock'. **

* * *

"Shawn? Can you describe the abduction for me, Shawn?"

"I... we were talking. About why I'd been drunk, and why I hadn't told anyone. We... Lassiter heard a noise outside... and then a lot of things happened very quickly. The next thing I knew for sure, there was a gun in my face. I couldn't take my eyes off it. He cocked it, and Lassiter froze as well. He was grabbed by two of them."

"Who?"

"Randolf had the gun on me, Truman and Ellis had a hold of Lassiter."

"And then?"

"I was hit over the head. Pistol whipped by Randolf. They dragged us out to a van. I lost consciousness after that."

"What happened when you woke up?"

"I was in a barn. Tied up. Lassiter was there, tied up too. I... we weren't there long before they came in. The three of them."

"What did they do?"

"They hurt us."

"Can you be more detailed?"

"Um... yeah. Okay. They... they tied Carlton up by his wrists from the ceiling. They beat him. I begged them to stop, but they just kept hitting him. eventually, I guess they got bored of that. It felt like hours. He barely made a sound the whole time." Shawn shuddered. "Then they pulled me up. Tied me to the beams by my wrists. I... I tried, but I couldn't keep quiet the way Lassiter did. It _hurt_. I yelled. A lot. They were laughing. And then... then he went and grabbed a...a cane, a bamboo cane. The type you tie plants to."

"Who did?"

"Randolf, Colby Randolf."

There was a ripple of noise from the gallery, and Shawn risked a glance at Randolf. He and Truman looked thoroughly pissed off. if looks could kill, Shawn would be one dead psychic. He flinched back and avoided the glares aimed at him.

"Order! Order, or I'll clear this courtroom!" the Judge yelled. He turned to Shawn. "Are you able to continue, Mr Spencer, or shall I call a recess?"

"I... I want to get this bit over with."

The Judge looked at him consideringly. He'd had his mind made up before the trial had even begun, but something about Mr Spencer, he seemed truthful. Maybe the Judge would have to rethink his position.

"Very well. But if it gets too much for you..."

"Thank you, sir."

"What happened next?"

"Next? Next, they used to cane to whip me." He smiled, but it was the saddest smile Prosecutor Stone had ever seen.

"They whipped you with the cane?"

"Yes. I don't know how long for. I was hoarse with screaming, and... God, it hurt. I passed out, pretty much dislocated my shoulder. I guess they got me down after that, because when I came too, I was on the floor again. Bound, hand and foot. Lassiter was in the opposite corner of the barn."

* * *

_"Shawn, Shawn. Please, are you awake?"_

_"Lassiter... I hurt." Shawn moaned, trying to sit up so he could see Lassiter better, and giving up as it pulled on his back._

_"I know. I'm sorry."_

_"What? Why are you sorry? You didn't hurt me."_

_"I should have stopped them. I should have been able to protect you." He chuckled humourlessly, and shook his head, then regretted it as a wave of nausea and dizziness swept through him. "To protect and serve. That's why I became a cop. and I can't even look after a police consultant while he's in my custody."_

_"Lassiter, don't be a guilt hog!" Shawn admonished, his voice rough. "If I'd told sooner, if I hadn't left it till I was literally at the end of my tether, and even then resisted telling anyone, maybe they would have been in jail already. I'm the one who dragged you into this. If anyone should be wracked with guilt, it should be me."_

_"Judging by the other night, you've got enough guilt already for a convention of Catholics during confession."_

_"Ha, ha."_

_"Spencer, your dad's training; did it involve getting out of ropes?"_

_"Are you serious?" Shawn groaned, glaring._

_"Shawn, have you ever known me not to be serious?" Lassiter replied, quirking an eyebrow. He stopped at once, with a wince, as even the slightest motion of his facial muscles really stung._

_"Well, there was that one time..."_

_"Spencer!"_

_"Okay, okay. Yes, Dad did cover ropes." Shawn frowned. "Lassie, can you get over here?"_

_"I'm not sure. Why?"_

_"Because our best bet is to work on each other's bindings. And I don't think I can get over there."_

* * *

"He asked me to get his bindings undone, and sort of crawled over. It took a while, but I managed to get him untied. Before he could return the favour, we heard someone coming."

"Who was it?" Shawn looked at his hands, twisting in his lap. "Shawn?"

"I... it was... It was Officer Truman." He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Mr Spencer, are you sure you don't need a recess?"

"If I don't get this out now, I might not be able to."

"Alright. Officer Truman came in..."

"And Lassiter went back to his corner, and pretended to be tied up. We weren't sure if he was armed, or if there were other... if the others were with him. They weren't." He took another deep breath. "Lassiter did the right thing. Truman. He had a gun. He was drunk, and he threatened to shoot me."

"I understand this is difficult. What did Detective Lassiter do?"

"Nothing. There was nothing he could do, yet. If he'd made a move, I'd be dead now. Truman... he came over, and he... he put the gun against my ribs. He started..." he swallowed. "He started touching me. He said he was going to... to rape me. He said it would be fun. He had one hand in his pants, touching himself, and he used the other hand... to touch me."

"That's a lie! I never, I'm not a fucking faggot. I never said that! I didn't rape him!"

"Shut up, Truman!"

"I never did!"

"Order, order, or I will have you evicted from this courtroom!"

"I should have fucking killed you," Truman shouted as he was dragged away by the bailiffs. "I should have killed you, you fucking faggot!"

Shawn flinched. He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself small.

The entire courtroom erupted into chaos.

"Order! Order!" The Judge slammed his gavel. "I'm calling a two hour recess."

* * *

**Yeah, I know, another evil chapter ending. And the next chapter probably will be awhile... but that's what I thought about this one, so who knows?**


	21. Chapter 21

**I spent a lot of time going backwards and forwards and rereading various chapters from all three stories to try and avoid continuity errors. It got me pondering. I've been trying to figure out exactly how many readers I've lost due to lack of updates. A lot, I'd guess. Sadface=me. **

**It's weird, I almost feel like I've come full circle with this series. It started because I was feeling down and couldn't sleep, and now I'm sitting here at four o'clock in the morning, trying to get another chapter written to make up for such long breaks between the last few. And, in this chapter I'm going to visit some old characters and plot lines I've neglected. **

**Also, updates are like buses. You wait forever and then 3 come along at once. **

**Also, I've been nice enough to Henry lately, just warning those Henry fans who complain when I'm mean to him... feel free to complain when you're done. Although, even complaints are reviews...**

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Shawn and his entourage took over one of the conference rooms. Prosecutor Stone helped the shaky witness to a seat.

"How're you doing Shawn?"

"Me? I'm fine. I feel like dancing a jig."

"Those bastards!" Henry slammed his hand into the wall, making Shawn and Lassiter both jump (which in turn made Lassiter wince as it really hurt his busted ribs).

"Henry!" Karen shouted. "Enough."

"No, Karen. It won't be enough till they're dead."

"Dad, stop it."

"Shawn, how could this happen? How could you let this happen? You're supposed to be better than this, stronger. I trained you so that things like this wouldn't happen!"

For a second, Shawn went completely blank faced with shock. But then the mask came up.

"You trained me, Dad? Sure, you trained me. You tried to make me into the perfect little cop, but you could never accept me for who I am! All you did was drive me away, just like you drove my mother away!"

"Yeah, because Maddy was such an excellent role model!"

"And you were? All you ever taught me was that I'm better off wherever you aren't." Shawn snorted, shaking his head. "I mean look at you! You said you wanted to come, show your support! And all you can do is yell. I knew this would happen. I told you not to come!"

"I needed to know what happened!"

"And that's all you thought about, right Dad? _Your _ needs! Did you even think about what I want? What I need? Do you think I want my Dad to know that I've been... that things like that have happened to me?" Shawn looked at his father for a long moment. "Just... get out."

Henry didn't even reply. He just turned around and walked out. Shawn shrank into himself and sat down.

"That bastard!" Gus, surprisingly, was the one who said it. "I'm sorry, Shawn. I know he's your father, but sometimes, that man..." He went over and sat beside Shawn. "I didn't say anything when he hit you, or when he arrested you, or whatever, but I can't believe him."

"He hit you?" Juliet sounded shocked.

Shawn closed his eyes and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He glanced at Lassie, who in turn glanced at Buzz.

"Alright, let's clear out. Let Shawn have a little air." He motioned to the door, and everybody filed out. Even the Chief.

* * *

The only ones who didn't leave were Gus, who assumed that the order didn't apply to him, and Lassiter, who didn't care if it did.

"I'm sorry, Shawn," Gus said.

"What for? You didn't do anything."

"I'm sorry your Dad's such an ass."

Shawn gave a parody of a smile at that.

* * *

Meanwhile out in the corridor, Juliet was staring, shocked, at the wall.

"Mr Spencer hit Shawn?"

"If he did, it's none of our business," Karen insisted, although she was thinking about certain events that had happened when she was a rookie under Henry Spencer. certain things she'd seen and known about the Spencer family.

"I just... I don't believe it," Juliet said.

"You think Shawn would lie?" Buzz sounded shocked at the very concept.

"No! No, I'm not saying that. And we all know that Shawn and his father don't exactly get on... And it certainly explains some things about how the two of them interact..."

"I cannot believe Henry said that to Shawn," Karen said, folding her arms. "He completely destroyed what little confidence Shawn's managed to scrape together with a few thoughtless words." She really was quite angry about it.

"Will he be able to continue?" Stone asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

"I don't know."Karen said honestly. "We have a two hour recess. Let's see how he is at the end of that."

* * *

Dr Stevenage was sitting in the gallery. Part of him wanted to follow Shawn and his friends out to the conference room, but he didn't want to intrude. He was worried about Shawn, but he thought that any intervention on his part would just make Shawn even more upset. Hearing what Shawn had been through in his own words made the doctor shiver and remember things he really didn't want to. He had heard dozens of rape victims accounts, counselled most of them. But something about this... something about the way Shawn described it, or maybe it was the way Truman reacted... it struck a chord with the psychiatrist.

* * *

In a hospital chapel, a Father prayed. He knelt and asked the Lord to watch over Shawn Spencer, who was so lost, so hurt, so alone, even though he was surrounded by the people who loved him.

"Please, Lord, watch over Your son, Shawn. He's lost and he can't see himself under the weight that's crushing him. I tried to help him, Lord, but I believe I failed. His challenges grow, and today he is forced to face his demons. Give him strength, Lord. Give him strength."

He prayed on and off throughout the day, for families, for patients, but each time, he found his thoughts returning to the poor young man who had grinned as he'd told Father Michael Murphy he'd was in hospital because he'd been kidnapped.

* * *

A man is sitting in the gallery, not far from where the Doctor is. His name is Mick and his son is one of the scouts who caught Ellis. He promised his son he would come and watch the trial and report back. He wished he hadn't made that promise. How was he supposed to talk to his eleven year old about rape, torture and the horror that went with it?

* * *

Also in the gallery was a man named Robert. He had multiple personalities, which were on their way to being intergrated.

Near him sat an asthmatic teenager with his mother. Brendan Vu is his name.

At the back was a very short man called Jimmy Nickels. He could barely see over the rest of the crowd.

A woman sat in the shadows, wanting to remain unseen. She'd flown in especially for the trial. From Uganda.

Also hidden from view was a man, a treasure hunter with a flair for the dramatic. He wanted to support the man on trial, but he didn't want Shawn's father to see him.

Woody, the coroner, was also present. Even though he was supposed to be performing an autopsy.

I could list more people who you might recognise. People who'd been helped by Shawn and who had come out to support him. they're all there, from museum workers to cops to reality TV singers.

And they weren't the only ones.

* * *

There was an entire biker gang outside. They hadn't been able to get seats in the Courthouse. Shawn had ridden with them for a couple of months when he was in his twenties. One of them had seen the news and rounded up the guys to take care of one of their own.

Molly and Josephine were in the courthouse, if not in the courtroom. They'd brought Pineapple Upside Down Cake with a Twist, and a large thermos of Strawberry milk for the psychic. They handed it off to Buzz after seeing an attractive brunette with a Tupperware container of cookies do the same.

Danny, Delinda and Mike had gotten gallery seats, along with Simone (or Simon) the stripper from Vegas.

There were various people who'd stayed or worked on Pacific Emerald Cruise Lines '94-'95.

Everywhere Shawn went, he touched people's lives, and he didn't even realise it.

* * *

**Wow. That got a little saccharine towards the end. Apologies. **

***Standard warning about sporadic nature of updates.***

** Although, if I manage a fourth before Monday, I'm going to buy myself a present.**

**I mentioned the Motecito and the gender bending stripper a while ago, so if you remembered that well done. Danny, Delinda and Mike are from Las Vegas, which I don't own. **

**Also, since I haven't begged for reviews for awhile... I write faster when I get lots of reviews... hint hint. Or maybe not, since I've written like three chapters and it's four in the morning and I only got one review on each of the last chapters... hmm. Lack of sleep makes flashwitch a productive writer. **

**God, I need sleep. This is getting silly. These author's notes are completely ridiculous. Oh well, I refuse to delete them on principal. So there. :-P**


	22. Chapter 22

**Ha! I updated again! I can't believe it! Don't expect this sort of speed to be the norm, dear readers. Oh, and thank you all for the lovely reviews! Really cheered me up! **

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"What the fuck, Truman?" Randolf scowled. "What were you thinking?"

"I... I can't go to jail. I can't. You know what they do to cops in jail. If they think I'm a rapist cop, do you know what they'll do to me?"

"If you'd kept you big mouth shut, we probably wouldn't be going to jail!" Randolf paused, and sat down. "Did you rape him?"

"No! No, what kind of fucking faggot do you think I am?"

"Okay. Maybe this is a good thing. There's no physical evidence that he was raped, that you did the raping."

"Gentleman," their lawyer cut in, reminding them he was present. "We need to talk."

"Look, I know I screwed up, but come on!" Truman moaned.

"What you just did put it in the jury's mind that you're guilty. That you want Shawn Spencer dead."

"Truman might. I never touched him, I never said anything. And isn't it understandable to want to kill the guy accusing you of rape?"

"That's how we're going to play it." The lawyer was decisive. "Officer Truman was so outraged at the suggestion that he could ever even consider raping someone, that he was driven to an ill considered outburst. We'll apologise to the Judge, and get all this smoothed over."

* * *

"How you doing?" Gus asked Shawn after a long moment of silence. Shawn laughed.

"How do you think I'm doing? I... This has gotten so out of hand."

"Yeah. It's gotten more and more complicated." Lassiter shifted uncomfortably. "Those three should never even have been hired."

"But they were," Shawn responded.

"It should never have got as far as it did."

"But it did."

"They should never have taken away Pluto's status as a planet," Gus inserted.

"But they did." Shawn was properly smiling now. He hadn't smiled like that in a while.

"I know. Messed up, right?"

"Totally messed up," Lassiter agreed seriously.

"No, you know what's messed up?" Shawn asked. "Me." He laughed.

"Shawn, you aren't messed up. You're reacting how anyone would."

"Maybe. But that just means that anyone would be messed up in these circumstances. It doesn't mean I'm not messed up. I don't want to be messed up."

"Then don't be." Lassiter said it simply. As if it was that easy.

Shawn laughed again.

"I'm not... I don't want to be... you think I can just choose not to be screwed up? you think I'm doing this on purpose?"

"Shawn!"

"No one is saying that!"

Shawn put his arms on the table. He put his head on his arms.

"I know. I'm sorry." He was really angry at his father. At Randolf. At Truman, and Ellis. He was even angry at Prosecutor Stone, even though he was just doing his job. He was angry at everyone and everything.

It was easier to be angry than to be depressed.

He was fed up of being depressed.

* * *

They stared at him as he sat there, so tired and sad and angry.

"All I meant," Lassiter said, in that oh so gentle voice people had been using with Shawn recently. It hurt him that Lassie thought he had to use it. "was that you have to choose."

"Choose what?"

"Whether you're going to let this rule your life."

"I don't want it to. And I'm trying. I really am. But..."

"What?" Gus asked.

"But I've had enough. I mean, look at my life. I come from a broken home, with a Dad who likes to lock me in a car trunk or dump me in the middle of the woods to see if I can find my way out. My Mom left and comes back sporadically to give me stuff and psycho-analyse me. And when she needs something. I've ran away from home more than once. I was in and out of hospital as a kid, for my heart and for other things. I've been kidnapped and raped, been held hostage by dirty cops, kidnapped and shot. oh, kidnapped again, tortured and nearly raped again. I've been beaten up more than once, held at gunpoint several times. How much more can one person take?"

"Shawn..." Gus put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Snap out of it!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard! How many times do I have to listen to the 'poor pitiful me' speech?"

"Guster!" Lassiter shouted.

"No. He needs to hear this! Shawn, how many countries have you been to? How many people have you helped? You've had, what, fifty seven jobs? Most people dream of having a life like yours! And yeah, you've suffered more than most, and God, I'd change it if I could. I'd take all that pain away if I could. And your parents may be hopeless and your Dad may be an ass, but at least you know they love you. A lot of people can't say that." He paused for breath. "But Shawn, you've got to take the bad with the good. You put yourself out there, and you do some amazing things because of that. But, because you're out there, you're vulnerable. And bad things will come." He shook his head. "You can either suck it up like you always do, or wrap yourself in cotton wool and never leave your apartment again."

"Gus...my man. You always say the sweetest things," Shawn teased. He lifted his head and smiled, and this time there was a glint in his eye that had been missing for a long time.

"How about, we call everybody back in, and look at getting some lunch?" Lassiter suggested.

* * *

Gus squeezed Shawn's shoulder, nodded to Lassiter, and then got up and went to the door. Everyone was out there in the corridor. He went out to them.

"How is he? Is he alright?" Juliet asked, heart in mouth.

"He's fine. Doing better, at least," Gus explained. "But, please, don't treat him with kid gloves. We've all been doing that, and it's made things worse. Just... treat him normally."

"You all have been treating him like he's breakable?" a woman said, from the side.

"Excuse me?" Karen did not like someone invading her territory.

"You can't do that with the kid. He hates it. Reminds him of when he was in hospital for his heart. Reminds him of his parents' divorce. Reminds him of when he was... of when bad things happen."

"And who, exactly, are you?" Karen asked, stepping forward.

"Chief Vick, it's okay. That's Miss Molly, and Josephine. They're friends."

"Gus. How is he?" Molly asked. "Really?"

"He's really doing better." Gus smiled. "I think he needed this. But, I think he'll be doing better with a slice of Pineapple Upside Down Cake with a Twist."

"Molly brought some. She brought some special Shawn-cake and a flask of Strawberry milk," Jo said.

"She did? Excellent! Where is it?"

"Oh, no. We know you, Burton. And there's no way I'm letting you 'sample' Shawn's cake. Anyway, I gave it to the nice upstanding police officer with the box of cookies."

"Buzz? You have Molly's cake?"

"Yeah... but I also have strict orders to give it only to Shawn." Buzz grinned. "I also have Francine's homemade cookies."

"He won't know what to eat first."

"How about we order actually food before we start on the deserts?" Stone grinned. He liked these people. They were good people.

* * *

Gus led the way into the conference room. Juliet went immediately to sit beside Shawn. She put on her worried face, and laid a hand on his arm.

"How are you, Shawn?"

"Jules, I'm great. Getting better every day."

"SHAWN!" A Josephine shaped object launched itself at Shawn with the speed of a bullet.

"Hey, kiddo. How're you doing?"

"My puppy that Gus got me is so cute. I called him Steve and I'm training him to do tricks!" She took a deep breath. "Can you help me train him?"

"Slow down, kiddo. Sure, I'd love to train the puppy with you. Steve's a great name for a puppy."

"I named him Steve because he just looks like a Steve, and because I looked it up and it means crown, and he has this funny different coloured bit on his head that looks like a crown."

"Wow. Yeah, I remember the crown-like markings. Definitely a Steve." He smiled at her. "If you're here, does that mean that Miss Molly isn't far behind?"

"What, you getting blind in your old age, kiddo?"

"Miss Molly. Tell me you've bought cake."

"I've bought cake. And milkshake. But, you don't get any unless you finish your dinner."

"Aw, not fair!"

Juliet was slightly taken aback with how normal and relaxed it all was, but she was ready to get into the swing of things.

"And that's not all Shawn. Buzz has cookies. Francine baked cookies."

"Really? So much deliciousness in one room!"

"But not until you eat your lunch." Karen narrowed her eyes at him.

"Do I get to pick?" Shawn asked.

Gus grinned at his friend, knowing that look.

"Jerk chicken?"

"You know that's right."

They pounded fists.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it. Put in some much needed sweetness and adorableness towards the end. I know the angst was getting to be a bit too much lately. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Yeah. I probably owe you an apology for how this one ends... I don't know when the next update will be... I'm evil, I know. **

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When the 2 hour recess was over, Shawn felt almost human. He ate one last cookie, and swallowed the last of his strawberry milk.

He tried to hold onto the feeling.

He walked down towards the courtroom, Gus on his right, Juliet on his left, Buzz pushing Lassiter just behind them. Beside him, the Prosecutor, and on his other side, Karen. Molly and Jo were behind them. Shawn made a sarcastic comment about the '_Reservoir Dogs' _ walk.

When they got to the courtroom, most of the group split off, and only Gus and Prosecutor Stone accompanied Shawn all the way to the dock.

"You'll be okay, Shawn," Gus said, and it was an order, not a question.

Shawn smiled and took his seat.

* * *

After the usual formalities, the Judge looked at Shawn, assessing, and he was pleased with what he saw. The young man was definitely doing better than he had been that morning.

"Mr Truman, I trust their will be no more outbursts?"

"Of course not, sir," it was their lawyer who answered. "Mr Truman was understandably overwrought. He was being accused of rape, male rape, a crime that is so disgusting to him, so repellent, so opposite to his beliefs that he had to react. He has his emotions under better control now and he sincerely apologises."

"Very well. But, I will have order in this courtroom. If there is one more outburst..."

"Oh, there won't be, your Honour."

"Very well. Prosecutor Stone, your witness."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Stone got up and walked over to stand in front of the dock. "Shawn, before the recess, you were describing your molestation at the hands of your attackers. Could you please continue?"

Shawn swallowed hard. He'd thought that part was over.

"Okay. I guess." He took a breath. "Officer Truman had pulled my pants down, and was touching me. In his other hand was a gun, pressed against my ribs. He took his hand off me and opened his own pants."He closed his eyes briefly. "That's when he put the gun down. He grabbed my hips and shifted me over so I was on my front. I couldn't move, I could barely fight. My hands and feet were still tied. I was sure he was going to rape me." He swallowed again, blinking hard. He was remembering. "But, he'd put the gun down, which gave Detective Lassiter the break he'd been waiting for. He hadn't wanted to attack before, because the gun could have gone off. it was jammed right into my ribs." One of Shawn's hands came up and pressed against his side. "For a moment I had no idea what had happened. I was panicking, I guess. There was a thwack and then a high pitched yell, and then nothing."

"_Are you okay?" Lassiter asked, gently, and Shawn felt like crying._

"I rolled over..."

_Lassiter was standing over him, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. He brandished the bamboo switch in one hand, and had recovered the gun with the other. George Truman was unconscious._

"... He'd hit Truman in the genitals with the bamboo cane they'd used on me." He chewed his lip for a moment.

"So now you had a gun?" Stone prompted.

"Yeah. Lassiter picked it up, but not until he'd tied Truman up. We didn't want him waking up and warning the others. Then Lassiter untied me."

"Why didn't you just leave then?"

"That was the original plan, but we were out in the middle of nowhere, and I was pretty badly hurt. Lassiter wasn't exactly fine either. We couldn't get away like that, it would be like a one legged turtle trying to evade hyenas." He shook his head. "Our only chance was getting to a phone. And our only chance of getting to a phone was getting our attackers out of the way."

"But you had a gun, right? Why didn't you just shoot all of them? For that matter, why didn't you shoot Truman?"

"We had the rope. We didn't need to shoot him. As tempting as it was."

"Okay. So what happened next?"

"We thought they were both asleep." He gave a tremulous half smile. "It was so stupid. I know better than that."

"What happened?"

"We thought they were asleep in the farmhouse so we stood outside the window and discussed what we were going to do. It was dumb, even if they were both asleep, we were idiots to think that us talking right there wouldn't wake them up." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "we decided we'd draw one of them out, ambush him and tie him up. then we'd have two guns and outnumber the third."

"But that's not what happened, is it?"

"No. No it's not."

* * *

_"Or how about this?" A cold voice came from behind them. "You two could talk away right outside the window, giving me plenty of time to come up behind you and get the drop on you."_

_It was Colby._

"He was right behind us. We hadn't noticed him at all." He looked right at his Dad (who'd snuck back in and was sitting at the back) as he continued. "My only excuse is that I was tired, scared and injured. He had his gun aimed at us." He looked down. "At me. He'd gotten close enough to press his gun to my back. I was so stupid." He shook his head. "He was right behind us, and Lassiter couldn't turn around, aim and fire before Randolf could shoot me. I caught Carlton's eye and gave a finger count of three. We moved together, spinning around. I grabbed Colby's wrist and twisted. You should never put a gun flush against someone's flesh, especially if that someone has free hands. He dropped the weapon, but I couldn't fight him. He hit my back where they'd whipped me, and I almost passed out. Lassiter had the gun up and aimed at his head.

We gave him a fair warning. We did! Lassiter told him to freeze, but he didn't. He went for the gun he'd dropped."

"So, Detective Lassiter shot him?"

"Yes. Three times. He wouldn't go down."

"Wasn't that a little overkill?"

"Probably," Shawn acknowledged. "But we were both hurt, and it was this guys fault. And he wouldn't go down. We had to make him stop. And in all fairness, Lassiter didn't take the head shot. he aimed to disable, not kill. In hindsight, it was pretty dumb. The shots woke Ellis. We're just lucky that he took off in the opposite direction, if he'd decided to attack us, I don't think I'd be here now."

"What happened next?"

"Next? Not much. We basically sat there, expecting Ellis to attack at any moment, until the cavalry arrived. We were pretty freaked out at this point, especially because Ellis was ranked pretty high with a gun and he had trophies for martial arts. We weren't really in any state to fight him."

"Why didn't you just go into the farmhouse, use that phone?"

Shawn paused. He hadn't really thought about that. First stage of the plan was to get rid of the bad guys, stage two was get to the phone. They hadn't gotten rid of all the bad guys at that point. He felt stupid.

"It... we didn't think of it." He gave a hollow laugh. "But even if we had, we probably wouldn't have until we'd gotten Ellis."

"Why?"

"Inside the house, there's lots of place to hide and jump out at us. We'd set ourselves up with a pretty defensible position, and we were in an open area, with an unobstructed view. We'd see him coming if he tried anything."

"Ah. I see. But he didn't try anything, did he?"

"No. He'd already left, but we didn't know that at the time. All we knew was that we'd been attacked by three men, and one of them was still at large. We sat there for what seemed like hours, but it was really only about 40 minutes."

* * *

_"I hear sirens." Shawn said._

"The cavalry arrived. Ambulances, police cars, my dad, Gus. Everyone."

"_And just like them, getting here just in time to clean up."_

"We got in the ambulance, and went to the hospital, and that was the end of that part."

"You've been harassed since then, though, haven't you?"

"Yeah. After they got out on bail. I don't know for sure that it's them though."

"Can you detail the harassment?"

"There was a note on my door."

_Shawn, you shouldn't have said anything. You told lies. Lies about us. Now, everyone thinks that we're the bad guys, when we all know you are. You and him. When we get a hold of you again, we won't waste any time. You will be fucked hard and killed slow, and I will enjoy every minute of it. If you can keep your fucking mouth shut, then maybe we'll just let you leave town, instead of hunting you down._

"I can't prove it was them. But the things it said..." He shrugged. "And they've been spreading rumours about myself and Detective Lassiter. They say we're in a relationship. They say we're gay, which there's nothing wrong with, but we aren't. They also insinuated that we were into some sort of sadomasochism, or abusive relationship."

"Objection!"

"What grounds?"

"Hear say!"

"Overruled. You basically explained these rumours in your opening statement."

"Continue, Mr Spencer." Stone sounded just a little smug.

"They attacked Detective Lassiter. He'd been staying on my sofa because neither of us wanted to be alone when we heard they were out on bail. But then..." he sighed. "I was having a bad day. I... I haven't been coping brilliantly. And the therapy... I have to have so many sessions before I'm allowed to help solve crimes again. And while my therapist is nice enough, that first session made things worse, and then I talked to the hospital Chaplain, and he tried to help, but what he said just made me angry."

"And what happened?"

"I went to stay at my Dad's. It's not a decision I made lightly. Me and my Dad don't exactly get along, but me and Lassiter, we were getting on each other's nerves. We argue all the time normally, and tease each other, but I guess neither of us felt strong enough or normal enough to act like that. I just had to get out of there." He swallowed. "I should have been there. Lassiter was attacked outside my apartment. They beat him up badly. Really badly. And they hurt my cat. She's okay, but only because she's a strong little thing."

"Thank you, Mr Spencer," Stone said. Then he turned to the defence lawyer. "Your witness."

* * *

**What do you think?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Ooh, look, a shiny new chapter! A little short, but never mind. **

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The lawyer stalked towards the dock, his eyes glinting menacingly and his grin a shark toothed parody of a smile.

"Mr Spencer. You claim to be a psychic. Are you?"

"Objection! Relevance?"

"Goes to credibility, Your Honour."

"I'll allow it."

"Mr Spencer, are you a psychic?"

The crowd waited with baited breath. Gus had his eyes closed and his fingers cross. Henry folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

"I see things that other people don't." Shawn shrugged. "You can call that psychic if you want."

"I don't. You do though."

"In the form of a question, Mr Dawkins."

"Sorry, Your Honour. Are you a psychic, Mr Spencer?"

"Objection! The witness has already answered the question."

"He evaded the question."

"Move on," the Judge ordered.

"Very well." The lawyer put his hands in his pockets. "Are you gay, Mr Spencer?"

"No, I'm not."

"Let me phrase it another way; have you ever had sexual relations with another man?"

There was a long pause. Lassiter gripped the arm of his wheelchair. Shawn would feel compelled to answer honestly. Gus's hands were so tightly fisted that his nails made little half moons in his palms.

If that bastard of a lawyer made Shawn talk about the first rape, he'd never get over it.

"Yes."

* * *

The courtroom erupted.

Henry had stood, and he was pale. His hands hung limply by his sides.

Juliet had her hands clasped over her mouth.

Gus had closed his eyes.

"Order! Order!" the Judge yelled. "That's enough! Everybody settle down or I'll clear this courtroom!"

"Mr Spencer, I'm confused. You claim not to be gay, but you've had sex with men?"

"I guess you'd technically call me bi-curious. I've had sex with seven men."

No one had expected that answer.

"Bi curious? Shouldn't that be bisexual?"

"No. I prefer women over men almost exclusively. And I haven't been with a man in two years."

Shawn didn't want to talk about this. Not in front of all these people. Not in front of his dad.

* * *

He'd always been interested in men as well as women, but he'd never been curious enough to do anything about it. After the first rape, he'd been terrified. He wondered if the fact that he was bi had had a hand in the attack. It was one more reason he blamed himself.

It wasn't his fault of course.

It had taken him a long time to learn that.

Then, once he was no longer depressed, he'd forced himself to research same sex relationships. He knew academically that not all male/male sex was like what he had experienced. But, he needed to see it for himself. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn't wrong, that what happened to him was an anomaly. That the man who attacked him was wrong, broken, sick.

He didn't want to repress his nature out of fear.

He'd been scared. He'd been alone. He'd been careful. His friends wouldn't have recognised him. he'd been so withdrawn, and unsure of himself.

The first man he'd willingly been with was called David. He'd been patient and kind and helped Shawn to realise he was worthy of being loved, and that love in any form is love, rape in any form is rape.

Love is always good. Rape is always bad.

It had taken him a long time to learn that, too.

The other five men... they'd all been someone special to him. Someone who he cared for enough that making the relationship sexual was the most natural thing in the world.

Even so, he only bottomed with two of them.

It was a matter of trust.

* * *

"Mr Spencer, is Detective Lassiter one of these men?"

"No."

"Now really, first you say you aren't gay, then admit to sleeping with men, and now you claim that you aren't sleeping with Detective Lassiter, whom you admit has been staying at your apartment?"

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn," the lawyer smiled. "Tell me Mr Spencer, having admitted that you practice unnatural sex, isn't there an argument that you might have wanted and enjoyed the alleged attentions of Officer Truman?"

"You bastard!" That came from Lassiter, but the cry was echoed and amplified by everyone around him. Buzz was growling and shaking his head. Henry was ranting. Karen was shouting and pointing her finger.

The entire crowd was shouting, yelling, getting up. Most of them were Shawn's friends. People Shawn had helped.

Shawn, meanwhile, had flinched back and gone pale.

"ORDER! ORDER IN MY COURT!" the Judge bellowed. His volume would have made Brian Blessed jealous. Slowly the angry people quieted. Henry was grabbed by a bailiff and pulled back, and out of the courtroom. "I've had enough. Bailiffs, I want this courtroom cleared."

It took a while, but slowly, the room emptied. Some people had to be dragged out, kicking and shouting.

* * *

Shawn was left alone.

The jury was there, the lawyers, the bent cops, and the Judge. But Shawn was still alone. He wrapped his arms around his torso.

"May I continue, Your Honour?"

"Yes. But be careful. I won't allow too much more in this line."

"Of course. Mr Spencer, has Detective Lassiter ever tied you up?"

There was a titter of confused laughter and murmurs from the jury.

"What's that got to do with-?"

"My clients tell a very different story to you. They say that Detective Lassiter tied you up, beat you, molested you. Then when you got free you fought back. As you are in an illicit relationship, you decided to cover for yourselves by blaming those who see you for the fraud you are. Now, answer the question."

"He's handcuffed me-" Shawn was going to continue, to explain about the arrest, but the lawyer cut him off.

"Has he ever hit you?"

"Well..." Shawn hesitated, thinking about all the times Lassiter had manhandled him, had pushed him into walls, had dragged him from crime scenes. Technically, no hitting, but Shawn was determined to be as honest as possible, because the slimy lawyer would be going over every inch of his testimony with a fine tooth comb. They already thought he was a liar (and, to be fair, he was) he wasn't about to let the slightest discrepancy through.

"Answer the question."

"No. He's never hit me."

"What about your father, he ever hit you?" Suddenly, Shawn was glad the room had been cleared.

"Objection."

"You're on thin ice, Mr Dawkins."

"Your Honour, if Mr Spencer here is the personality type that goes for an abusive life partner, chances are; he's been abused before. It's also common for abused personalities to refuse to testify against their spouse. It goes to prove my clients version of events."

"Hmm." The Judge looked from lawyer to lawyer, and then finally at Shawn. "I'll let it pass."

"What?"

"Prosecutor Stone, you are out of line. I've made my decision. Mr Spencer?"

"Your Honour?"

"Answer the question."

"My father only ever hit me once. He was not abusive. Detective Lassiter and I are not in a relationship, and if we were, he wouldn't be abusive."

"If you say so. Mr Spencer, isn't it true that you have a criminal record?"

"Yes, but-"

"And that these gentlemen don't."

"I don't know, but-"

"And you expect us to believe a _psychic_ with a criminal record over three upstanding members of the community? Three _police _officers?"

"I only see two, and anyway-"

"You expect us to believe a psychic criminal with a history of fraud?"

"History of what?"

"Do you know someone by the name Lavender Gooms? How about Felicia Fancybottom? Ovaltine Jenkins? Knick Knack? T-Bone Turner? I could go on."

Shawn stared.

* * *

**Yes, I know there will probably be some rage that I've made Shawn bi. This is partly due to the slash epilogue I'm planning, and partly due to the fact that Shawn is bi to me. He flirts with everyone, male or female and he makes some darn appreciative comments about some hot guys. **


	25. Chapter 25

**New chapter! :D**

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"Well? Mr Spencer?"

"I..."

"Mr Spencer, do you have any explanation? You and your 'partner'," and the way he said the word partner, as though it was a dirty thing, made Shawn cringe, "have a long history of fraudulently representing yourselves."

"We work as police consultants. As private detectives. It's not always amenable for us to introduce ourselves to suspects or witnesses as ourselves."

"You don't have a license as a Private Detective, do you?"

"Psychics are exempt."

"Yes. I'm sure they are." He sniffed.

"Mr Dawkins..." the Judge warned.

"Withdrawn." He let his gaze wander over Shawn, and shook his head, as though the psychic had been found wanting. "So, you're telling me freely that you make a habit of lying?"

"I give fake names occasionally. It isn't good to tell the criminals up front that you're an investigator investigating them. Not if you want the truth."

"I'm sure the truth was the last thing on your mind."

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. No further questions."

"Would the prosecution like to readdress this witness?"

"Yes, Your Honour." Stone got up and came to stand by Shawn. He couldn't stop the glare when he and Dawkins paths crossed. "Mr Spencer, you've willingly slept with men?"

"Yes."

"Can you detail one of these relationships for us?"

"I..." He looked down. He really didn't want to talk about this. "I fail to see how my personal life has anything to do with this. It's been years since I've been with a man."

He did see of course. How could he fail to? But, he didn't want to sully his relationships by talking about them in this place. the place where he'd had to detail his attack.

"Mr Spencer, the defence is suggesting that you were willingly involved in some sort of abusive relationship, and that's how you received these injuries. Your past lovers are completely relevant. Answer the question."

"Fine." He sighed. "The first man I was with-" _willingly at any rate _"-was David."

* * *

_*Flashback*_

_Shawn had made his decision. He needed to explore this side of him. He needed to stop being afraid. He could do this. He could. _

_He stood outside the club for almost hour with his arms wrapped around his chest. _

"_You going in, or just thinking about it?" _

_He started badly at the voice, and hated himself for hunching away from the speaker. He forced himself to stand up straight, and meet the man's eyes. _

"_Haven't decided yet." _

_The man was tall and well muscled, with small round glasses obscuring his blue eyes. His hair was a dark brown, with reddish highlights. Shawn spent a moment trying to figure out if they were natural or not. _

"_I'm David." He held out his hand. _

"_Shawn." He shook. Shawn was disconcerted. David's eyes were piercing and gave the impression of seeing everything. _

"_Nice to meet you Shawn." His thumb caressed the back of the younger man's hand, and Shawn pulled away. David nodded as though that proved something. He lit a cigarette. "You want to go someplace quieter?"_

"_I'm not that kind of boy."_

"_Funny. I meant, it's loud and packed in there. Lots of body contact. Very little chat. There's a nice bar a few blocks away. It's quiet, but still sociable, you know?" _

_Shawn considered for a long moment before nodding. Something told him he could trust this guy._

_*End Flashback."_

* * *

"David was a wonderful man, good and kind. And I loved him." He said it almost defiantly.

The defence lawyer snorted as though such a thing wasn't possible. Prosecutor Stone turned around and glared at him, before turning back to Shawn.

Shaw wasn't sure whether he wished his friends were here for this or not.

"My relationships with other men are the same as my relationships with women. Based on attraction, respect, and above all love. I've never been in an abusive relationship. I've never been into the BDSM scene either. I won't even let my partners tie me up." He shuddered. In fact, Lassiter was the only man who'd ever tied him up without a malicious purpose.

* * *

_*flashback*_

_"Lassie, I didn't know you felt that way!" Shawn protested as he was dragged into the spare room and cuffed to the bed._

_"Don't do that! You go on about how you hate hiding, but you're still doing it!" Lassiter ran a hand through his hair. "We are going to have this conversation out, whether you like it or not. We both have the week off, so no one will wonder where we are. We need to discuss this."_

_"What's there to discuss?"_

_"Well, you were crying into a bottle of whisky last night. You go on about what a fraud you are. You think I hate you." Lassiter listed. "Something is wrong and I don't know what."_

_"What does that have to do with me being chained to the bed? If you want to come out, the closet's over there."_

_"I'm not stupid. If I let you out of my sight, you'd run away, give up. Because that's what you do."_

_"Fine. Can I have some more water?"_

_Lassiter left the room to get the glass, and refill it. Shaw allowed himself a single moment of pure crystalline fear. He could feel it, icy shards piercing his soul. Then, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He was holding onto his control by a thread. _

_**This isn't like then.**__ He told himself. __**This is Lassiter. He won't hurt me. He's a good cop.**_

_But that was only the small rational part of his mind. The majority was panicking, and slowly getting louder. _

_**Get them off. Get them off! GET THEM OFF! **__**GET THEM OFF!**_

_He pulled a pin from the waistband of his jeans, and quickly twisted it into a key. His hands were shaking when he got them free. _

_He literally leaped away from the bed. He couldn't... he didn't... he was on the edge of a panic attack. He dropped down to the floor, and hugged his knees. He was on the far side of the bed, and invisible from the doorway. He was safe. He was._

_*End flashback.*_

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* * *

_

"So, have you ever allowed a sex partner to spank you, or otherwise engage in physical violence, even in play?" Stone wanted this to be clear. He didn't want the defence to have a leg to stand on.

"It's not my thing. I did have one girlfriend when I was maybe nineteen, who was into that. We played around a bit. I've not done anything like that since."

Of course he hadn't. The girl had been in the town he'd been in before the first time he was attacked.

"Do you have any understanding of how BDSM relationships work?"

"Well, I know it's based on trust, and that extreme violence such as that experienced by myself at the hands of the defendants would be looked on as abusive. Also, such relationships usually are one way. A dom and a sub."

"You seem to know a lot."

"No. That's the result of a few minutes googling several years ago when I was with the girl I mentioned. Like I said, it isn't my thing."

"And putting aside the BDSM aspect of the defence's claims for a moment, if your significant other ever hit you, or otherwise abused you, how would you react?"

"I'd fight back."

"As the defence claims you did with Detective Lassiter?"

"I guess. But I wouldn't cover for anyone who hurt me."

"Prosecution rests."

"Readdress Your Honour?" the defence asked, getting to his feet.

"Go ahead."

"Mr Spencer, you just told my esteemed colleague that you would never cover for someone who hurt you, correct?"

"Yes. You just heard me say it."

"But didn't you cover up the alleged attacks on you prior to your kidnapping? Did it not take, according to you, Detective Lassiter noticing bruises and telling the Chief for this to come into the open?"

"I... Yes, but..."

"No further questions."

Shawn closed his eyes. Damn it. Now he looked guilty.

* * *

**What do you think? This was originally going to be a little bit longer, but I didn't like how it ended. **


	26. Chapter 26

**This chapter is dedicated to XiaoDui. ****XiaoDui says this is a first. Aw, a Dedication Virgin. I'll be gentle! **

**Thanks for the review, I haven't quite incorporated everything you said yet, but I am working on it! You may notice a certain someone being mentioned in this chapter...**

**On an unrelated note, sorry this hasn't been updated sooner. It hasn't been the longest break there's been in this one, but... *shrugs*. I'm still sorry. :)**

* * *

Molly was pacing. Jo was watching her, wide eyed.

"I worry about that boy. He's alone in there, and he's probably upset. He says and does stupid things when he's upset."

"He says and does stupid things when he's happy too," Henry shot back. Molly wasn't the only one who glared at him.

"Did you know Shawn was gay?" Juliet asked. She couldn't sit on the question anymore.

"No. No, I didn't." Henry folded his arms.

"Bi," Gus corrected. "I knew. And it doesn't really matter. He's more comfortable with women, and he hasn't been with a man in a couple of years."

"I can't believe he didn't tell us." Juliet looked at Lassiter for sympathy.

"He didn't even tell his own father, O'Hara. He's only known us a few years."

"Well, I guess. But..." She sighed. She'd had her heart set on Shawn for a while.

"Hey." They all turned and found a man standing a few feet away. "I'm looking for Shawn Spencer?"

"The Judge cleared the gallery," Vick explained, examining the man. He was quite attractive with his reddish brown hair and his piercing blue eyes. He was wearing loose jeans, a dark blue t shirt and a beat up leather jacket.

"Oh." He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall.

"Sorry, but who are you?" Henry asked. He felt the need to be belligerent with someone.

"David."

"That's not really an answer."

"I know."

Gus was the only one who recognised the man. Shawn had kept that part of his life separate for the most part, but occasionally, Gus would insist on meeting the guys his friend was dating. They exchanged a nod.

* * *

"Readdress, Your Honour?" Stone asked, and got a nod. "Mr Spencer, can you explain the discrepancy in your testimony?"

"I... I didn't take the threat the defendants posed to me seriously. And, I never really actively covered for them. I just didn't tell anyone."

"You didn't view them as a threat?"

"When they started harassing me, it was little things. Not a big deal. I just brushed it off. And when they did start getting serious, I thought the threat of reprisal from them and from other cops wasn't worth the risk of accusing them. It's completely different to being in an abusive relationship."

"How so?"

"Relationships are built on trust. On love. The breach of that trust with violence or otherwise... it's automatically unforgivable. It's much worse than relative strangers harassing you."

"No further questions."

"Would the defence like to readdress?"

"No. The defence rests."

"Mr Spencer, you can get down now," the Judge told him. He looked at the jury, and then at the defendants, before he stood and walked out of the courtroom. He never felt more alone than he did as he walked through the empty gallery to the doors.

He was immediately surrounded by his worried supporters.

His father, noticeably, stayed where he was sitting.

For a long confusing moment, everyone was whirling around him, asking questions and offering reassurances. He could barely understand them, with them all talking at once like that.

"Hell, give the boy some air," Molly said. Lassiter sent her a grateful glance as everyone backed off and Buzz was able to push the Head Detective's chair in front of Shawn. Lassiter opened his mouth to ask how it went, but before he could...

"Hey."

Shawn knew that voice. That sweet, laconic tone. He looked around and there was David.

"Hey yourself." His arms came up around his waist, in a self hug. David acknowledged to gesture with a small nod. "I... you came."

"As soon as I heard."

"Thanks."

"I..." David looked vaguely uncomfortable, and it didn't suit him.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm married."

Whatever Shawn was expecting, it wasn't that.

"Oh."

"His name is Jonathan. He's at the hotel."

"Is he... nice?"

"He great."

"Good."

"Are you?"

"No... no."

"I get that."

"You do?"

"I do." David smiled. "All this?"

"Pfft." Shawn shrugged. "It'll blow over soon enough."

David raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so maybe I'm being a little optimistic."

David folded his arms.

"Yes, there's no evidence against them, but..."

David shook his head.

"It will be fine. Stone's amazing at what he does, I asked Hornstock. Oh, Hornstock is a lawyer friend of mine. He's says Stone is pretty great as a prosecutor so I'm not worried."

"When did you go and see Hornstock?" Gus broke in.

"I didn't go and see him, I called him up." He grinned. "I couldn't face any more of those failed fist bumps. I mean, how hard is it? You just bump your fist into the other persons! I pretty much only talk to Hornstock by phone nowadays."

"Oh. Okay."

Shawn smirked at Gus, and then turned back to David.

"Not that I'm not pleased to see you, and I want to meet your husband, but what are you doing here?" David raised that eyebrow again, and coupled it with the folded arms move. "I mean, how long has it been? We barely keep in touch. A postcard now and again. Whatever happened to that troop of dwarf male prostitutes you met in Venezuela by the way?"

"Shawn..."

"Right, right, right. Off topic. What I'm asking is: why are you here?"

"Because I love you. You know this." He didn't explain further. It was one of the things Shawn loved about David. He never used two words when one would do.

"Yeah." He actually blushed (only a little) and scraped his foot on the carpet.

"I thought you might be alone. Well, with Gus."

"Hey!" Gus inserted.

"But you're not."

"No."

"I could...?"

"No! Stay. I want to meet Jonathan."

"Okay." He smiled. "I'll get him. Dinner?"

"Sure, that sounds good. What do you fancy? There's a good Italian place. La Bella Notte."

"Cool." He smiled gently at Shawn and then gave a sort of half hearted wave at the rest. With that, he turned and left.

"Oh, wait! David, we didn't set a time! Seven okay?" David turned and walked backwards, hands in his pocket and gave a nod and a half smile, before turning back the way he was travelling.

* * *

"Shawn?" Lassiter asked, and the younger man finally took his eyes off the corner David had vanished around. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Stone readdressed, asked me a few more questions... I think I did okay."

Shawn's eyes sought out his father's. Henry held his gaze for a long moment before slowly and deliberately turning away. He walked out of the courthouse, and didn't look back. Shawn didn't try to call him back.

"Mr Spencer?" Chief Vick put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure everything will be alright. You've done your part. Know it's up to the rest of us."

"Thanks, Chief."

"Now, why don't you take Detective Lassiter back to the hospital. He signed out AMA." She grinned.

"Lassie?"

"The doctor was going to let me go in a few days anyway!"

"Buzz, you're supposed to be protecting him! And that includes from himself. Lassie, you are an idiot. Not that I don't appreciate it, but..." he shook his head, "you're hurt. You should be looking after yourself."

_Not after me_. It was implicit in the statement, and Lassiter didn't like it.

"Spencer..."

"Shut up, Lassie. Gus, Buzz, help me get him back to the hospital." Shawn kept his head down. He didn't like this. Ever since Lassiter had tried to help him, the Detective had gotten hurt over and over.

_It's all my fault. If I hadn't been such an idiot. If I hadn't gone over to his place. If I'd just __**told**__ someone..._ Shawn chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked alongside the wheelchair. Gus was on the other side, and Buzz was pushing it.

"Stop that," Carlton said in an undertone.

"What?"

"Blaming yourself. Feeling guilty for things you had no control over. I mean, sweet justice Spencer. I _chose_ to sign out AMA. If I've hurt myself, I've only myself to blame."

Shawn smiled wanly. Then, he frowned. His brain clicked into high gear and he noticed what had been bothering him since he'd first seen Lassiter in the courtroom.

"Um, I would thank you for that little pep talk Lassie, but one thing before I do. I left Tribble by your bed, Buzz said you guys would take care of her. So... um... where is she?"

Lassiter went pale.

* * *

**And I shall finish with a generic statement about the unpredictability of updates. But, you know this about me and my writing. **


	27. Chapter 27

**Massive, massive apologies to everyone who's been waiting for this chapter. First I had exams, and I thought I'd be able to update over the summer. Then my mum got ill, scary ill, and I had to make sure she took her meds and didn't over do it and care for my little brothers (both under 12). She's doing better now, thankfully, but I'm in my third year of uni, and dissertation plus assignments, plus checking up that my mum hasn't worked herself into a coma equals not enough hours in the day.**

* * *

"Um... you see..."

"Dude, where's my cat?"

"You lost his cat? You lost Tribble?" Gus began backing away slowly. "Didn't he ever tell you what he did to Henry after what happened to Chairman Meow?"

"What? No." Lassiter looked from Shawn to Buzz. "Anyway, he gave the cat to Buzz!"

"Don't look at me!" Buzz raised his hands.

"Where. Is. My. Cat?"

"I guess we must have left her at the hospital."

Lassiter cringed.

Shawn glared.

They went out to Gus's car and piled in. Buzz went to his patrol car and followed them.

Inside the Blueberry, there was silence. An awkward silence to be exact. Shawn's hand was beating out a staccato rhythm against his thigh. He stared out the window, and watched the world go by.

"So..." Gus trailed off. "Um, how did it go? Really."

"It was... unpleasant." He shook his head.

"But they have to understand, right? They can't believe those jackasses."

"I don't know, Gus. I don't think I looked too great."

Silence fell again. No one knew what to say.

It was some ten minutes later that Lassiter cleared his throat. He couldn't stand the quiet. Shawn was never quiet, and it just felt wrong.

"So, David?"

Shawn didn't look away from the window.

"Yeah. He's a good guy."

"And he's married?"

"I guess so. It doesn't surprise me. When he loves someone, he loves them with everything he has. He'd want to show that."

"I, um, I didn't know you were bi." Lassiter rubbed the back of his neck, and then winced as he pulled on his broken ribs.

"Does it bother you?"

"What? No. No, of course not." Lassiter considered telling Shawn that he was also attracted to members of the same sex, but he didn't think it really counted because he'd never progressed beyond drunken hand jobs in the bar bathroom. Also, he didn't really want to tell Gus.

"You don't think that I asked for it?" Shawn asked tentatively his voice was so small and vulnerable that, for a moment, Lassiter wasn't sure if he was imagining it.

"Shawn, don't you even think like that!" Gus cut in.

"Gus is right, Shawn. What happened had nothing to do with your orientation." He felt ridiculously awkward talking about it.

"But people are going to believe it, aren't they? That because I like guys I must have enjoyed it. hell, the lawyer already argued it. That I wanted Truman to..." he trailed off. There was a moment of heavy silence and then Shawn punched the dashboard in front of him, once, twice, three times.

"SHAWN!" Gus and Lassiter shouted at once, both trying to lunge for him and stop him, but Shawn just crumpled into himself and started crying.

Lassiter didn't know what to do. He wanted to make it better, but he didn't know what to do. How can you make something like this better? He hadn't felt this impotent and helpless since he was tied up in that barn.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a motel room not so very far away...

The man sitting on the bed looked nothing like Shawn Spencer. He was tall and quite skinny with dark eyes and prominent cheek bones. He had long thin fingers, pianist's fingers, and an air of charming vulnerability.

"Hey," David said. He leaned walked over to stand before his husband.

"Hey. How'd it go? Is he alright?"

Always a man of few words, David shrugged one shoulder and then leaned down to claim the mouth that opened to him. When they had to come up for air, the man on the bed pushed David away a little and looked at him seriously, as David pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"And you? Are you alright?"

David shrugged, but this time his husband crossed his arms, not letting him get away with it.

"I just don't know, Jon. It was hard seeing him."

"But it was the right thing." Jon hated that it sounded like a question. David ran a hand through his hair, pulling it up into spikes.

"Yeah. He needed... no. That's not fair. I needed to be there for him."

"You still love him." And that didn't sound like a question. Jon winced.

"I love you."

"I know that. And I love you. But you love him too. And that's okay. Really."

"He invited us to dinner tonight. I'd... I'd like you to meet him?"

"Okay." Jon took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man his husband cared so much for. But he couldn't _not_ meet him either. David sat down beside his husband and pressed their shoulders together. He reached out and intertwined their hands, turning them so that his was on top, showing the ring on his second to last finger.

"You don't have to."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

Shawn and company had reached the hospital. Shawn had managed to regain control of himself, scrubbing his hands over his face and forcing a smile.

Buzz obviously noticed that something was wrong though when he pulled up alongside them and helped Lassiter into the wheelchair. He didn't say anything though, and for that, they were all truly grateful.

They headed straight to the room where Lassiter had been staying.

It was empty.

The bed had been made, the trash can emptied, the curtains opened. And there was no sign of the kitten. Shawn glared silently at Buzz and Lassiter.

"Shawn, I'm sure that one of the nurses just picked her up."

"Yeah, she'll be okay!"

"She'd better be."

The door opened behind them, and Dr Foster came in.

"Hello, what are you all doing back?"

"They left my cat," Shawn pouted.

"Hmm. Well, nothings been reported, but I'll ask around. Wait here." Foster headed out of the room, a man on a mission.

There was a moment of silence, and then Gus had an awful thought.

"Shawn, you don't think Truman and Randolf and Ellis had anything to do with this? I mean, you don't think they took Tribble, do you?"

* * *

David and Jon were wrapped up in each other on top of the covers. They were just holding each other, offering what assurances they could. Jon had no self confidence, and he couldn't help worrying that David might go back to this Shawn he seemed to prize so highly. David always put the people he cared about before himself, and it was killing him to see Shawn so down-trodden with no way to fix it.

"He's going to be okay," Jonathon whispered, holding his husbands tight.

"I love you," David replied.

"I know. but you love him too, don't you?" Jon was inpressed with himself. He'd managed to keep his voice level and even and didn't show any of the pain and jealously that thought brought with it.

"He's Shawn. He's a great guy, and yes, I do love him. But I don't want to be with him. I don't lust after him. But I can't just forget about him either." For David, that was a ridiculously long speech. He wanted David to understand. "I love you. I married you. I want you."

They kissed, deeply, but gently.

* * *

Shawn wanted to be pacing. Instead, he was sitting on the hospital bed, twisting his hands around each other and chewing on his lip. He felt drained and on edge at the same time.

_What if they've killed her? She's just a baby. What if they're holding her hostage and want me to change my testimony? Where's a pet detective when you need one?_

He suddenly tasted copper and realised he's worried his way through his lip. He was bleeding.

Lassiter wanted to be pacing. He hated seeing Shawn so sad and vulnerable, but that seemed to be the theme of the month. He wanted the cocky Shawn back (which is something he never thought he'd be saying or even thinking). He hated that he'd forgotten all about the cat until Shawn brought her up and he would never forgive himself if something had happened to her. But most of all he hated this wheelchair. He wanted to be pacing, and he felt confined. Caged.

Gus was pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the linoleum. He shouldn't have said anything. He'd just upset everyone. But what if he was right? How would Shawn cope with this latest attack? It was yet another blow and Gus was worried that this would be the straw that broke the metaphorical camel's back.

Buzz was standing by the door. He'd positioned himself so that he could see out into the corridor and all the people he was supposed to be guarding. It was his fault. Shawn had asked him to take care of Tribble and he'd forgotten. He wanted to call Francine and have her tell him everything was alright. He wanted to hear her voice more than anything.

* * *

**Hopefully the next one shouldn't take as long, but I make no promises, tell no lies.**


	28. Chapter 28

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter back after hiatus for their kind words. Hope you like this one.**

* * *

Dr Foster asked the nurses if they'd seen a cat. They all looked at him like he was mad. A cat in a hospital? What's next, a singing dancing mouse with his own amusement park? He went around the ward, but no one admitting to taking Tribble. He stood for a moment, scratching his head, and then he had an idea.

He headed down to the Children's ward.

"I found him upstairs," Sam said. He was bald under his red bandana and his green eyes looked huge in his head.

"You shouldn't have gone up there. You know we're not supposed to go to other wards," Laura shook her head and tried to look disapproving. She reigned over the children from her wheelchair like a queen in a throne.

"He's cute, though," Nicola inserted, poking a finger between the bars of the cage. "What's his name?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "And what makes you think it's a boy?"

Tommy was keeping as far away from the animal as possible. His skin seemed paper thin and oddly stretched over his too thin frame and his face seemed both pale and flushed at once.

"We should take it back," he said.

They were the only children in the games room at the moment, and they all knew each other well, all being long term patients.

"We aren't taking it back! I found her! And anyway, who ever she belonged to, they just abandoned her. We'll take much better care of her."

"Sam, the nurses are going to kill you and display your skin as a warning to others. But don't worry. We'll give you a nice funeral."

"Very funny, Laura." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Meow," said Tribble.

* * *

"Ahem." A cough came from behind them and they found three amused and annoyed adults standing there, their arms crossed. Dr Foster was in the middle, and he was flanked by two nurses who worked the ward. Nurse Brian, who was a male nurse, and Nurse Wendy, who wasn't.

"What is going on here?" Brian asked sternly.

"Nothing!" the children said and they positioned themselves to hide the cat box from the adults.

"Really?" Wendy shook her head. "Well, then you won't mind stepping aside! Besides, Laura, your parents are looking for you, and yours too Tommy. And Nicola, you're overdue for your medicine."

They all looked shamefaced, but none of them moved. Children who face death so young form strong bonds to each other, and look on adults as outsiders.

"One of my patients has misplaced his cat. I was wondering if any of you had seen it," Dr Foster said, eyebrow raised.

"No!"

"No, sir."

"A cat in a hospital?"

"I didn't do it!"

"That's a shame. He's really upset, and he's been through a lot recently. He was in the hospital because some very bad people hurt him."

"Really? Is he going to be okay?" Nicola asked.

"I hope so. But he's been through a lot, and he left to go to Court to try and get the bad people locked up, and left the cat with his friend, who the bad guys had hurt too. But his friend rushed to the Court when he woke up. He wanted to be there for his friend. And he didn't realise he was supposed to be looking after the cat." Dr Foster shook his head. "They're both really upset."

"Sam..."

"What, Tommy?"

"Maybe..."

"No. They left her all alone. They abandoned her. And she was hurt too."

"Sam's an orphan," Wendy whispered to Dr Foster, "and he has Leukaemia."

"Sam, I understand, I do. But Shawn is really upset about losing his cat. Maybe you could come with me to give her back."

"She's mine, I found her." He picked up the cat box and hugged it to his chest.

"Sam. You can't just take her. How would you take care of a cat here at the hospital?" Brian asked.

"I don't care. I found her."

"Shawn used to be one of you, you know," Dr Foster said. He wasn't sure what made him say it, but he saw right away that it was the right thing.

"He was?" Laura asked.

"Yeah, he had heart problems and was in and out of the hospital all the time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He had a transplant when he was five, and he has a big scar down his chest from it."

"Sam."

"Come on, Laura! He's lying! You don't believe him, do you?"

"Sam, you know the rules."

"That's not fair!" Sam pouted. "He's a grown up, it doesn't count!"

"It totally counts! Give him his cat back. I'm going to go and find my parents." She wheeled out of the game room back onto the main ward.

"Fine. I'll go with you to talk to the guy." Sam scowled. "But I'm not promising anything."

* * *

Dr Foster let Sam carry the cat basket. Not because he was lazy or anything, but because he was willing to bet that Sam had been treated with kid gloves ever since he became ill, and also because he didn't think he could get the kid to let go without resorting to force. They got in the elevator.

"So, what did that girl mean about the rules?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because the first rule of Kid's Ward is 'we don't talk about Kid's Ward'."

Foster laughed, and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. The boy didn't seem to know what to do with the casual contact.

Shawn practically leaped for joy when Dr Foster walked in, grinning, flanked by a small boy carrying Tribble.

"You found her!"

"Thank God!"

Shawn held out his arms.

"Wait, how do I know she's really yours? Besides you left her all alone. No one likes to be alone in a hospital."

"Shawn, this is Sam. He's been taking care of her for you."

Shawn got down to Sam's level, on one knee.

"Thank you so much for looking after her. She's a special kitten." Shawn looked at him for a long moment, and then grinned. "Cancer, huh?"

"Shawn! You can't just say something like that, not to a kid."

"Please, I'm not a baby. Besides, it's better than everyone pretending, that just makes it hard."

"Because you aren't sure how to react."

"Huh." Sam looked at Shawn, taking his measure. "You really were one of us, weren't you?"

"Yeah, a long time ago now. But I got an awesome scar out of it!"

"Damn. Then I have to give her back, that's not fair."

"Language," Lassiter put in. "And what are you talking about?"

"The Kid's Ward rules. They're still around?"

"Yeah." Shawn laughed delightedly. Most children's wards have a set of rules amongst the children, unofficial, but understood by all, but when Shawn was in and out of the ward constantly, he and his fellow patients had formalised the rules. The list had been about fifteen long by the time he'd left the hospital for good.

"How many are there now?"

"Last count, thirty."

"Wow. Thanks for bringing her back. I was really worried."

"You just better take care of her now."

"I will, don't worry." Shawn reached a finger through the bars to stroke Tribble's cheek, eliciting a low rumbling purr. "Maybe I could bring her to visit you?"

"Would that be okay with your parents?" Buzz asked.

"Don't know. They died a few years ago."

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Buzz stumbled over himself trying to apologise. Sam and Shawn exchanged a world weary look.

"Buzz, man, stop. You didn't mean anything by it, and going on about it and making it a big deal is worse." Shawn sighed. "You didn't kill his parents and you didn't give him cancer. And talking about it is better than acting like everything is pineapples and puppies."

Buzz fell into an embarrassed silence.

"You can buy me some chocolate from the gift shop if it bothers you that much. I already spent my pocket money. My social worker is pretty stingy." Sam smiled.

"Tell you what, how about I bring you some of my wife's cookies? She's a genius in the kitchen!"

"Really?" Sam's expression went calculating, wondering what the trade value of cookies was in the ward barter system.

"Yeah, Francine's cookies are amazing!" Gus said, smiling at the boy. "Definitely better than some Hershey's!"

"Cool."

"We'll come and give you them in a day or so. And I'll bring Tribble to see you at the same time."

Sam looked excited for a moment, and then he frowned and shrugged as if it didn't matter to him either way.

"I'd better get back. Take good care of the cat."

"I will. Take care of yourself."

"I will. Always have."

And with that, Sam turned and walked out of the room. He didn't look back.

"I'm glad that's sorted." Dr Foster smiled, and clapped his hands together. His shift had actually ended about ten minutes before Shawn and the others had arrived, and he was eager to get home.

"Thank you, Doctor," Gus said, and the Doctor left.

* * *

Our heroes returned to the cars, Buzz to his, the rest to the blueberry.

"Where to now?" Gus asked, hands on the wheel.

"My place. I want to get changed." Shawn tugged on the collar of the suit he'd had to wear for court. He hated the thing.

"Want to look nice for David?" Lassiter asked, his voice studiously uninterested.

Shawn didn't answer.

When they got back to Shawn's, the man shut himself in his room and tried to figure out what to wear. Much as he hated to admit it, Lassiter was right. He was nervous about seeing David again, about meeting David's husband.

_What if he doesn't like me anymore? What if I'm too damaged, too broken? What if his husband hates me?_

He pulled on a blue t shirt, and stared at himself in the mirror before dragging it off again.

_What if he and Lassie hate each other and fight all night? What if he wants me to tell him about what happened? What if he asks me about my sex life?_

A red shirt this time. It made him look pale and sickly.

_What if my Dad hates me now? What if he never talks to me again?_

He finally settled on a dark green button down. It looked alright. He thought it did anyway. Maybe that blue top...

No, he'd made his decision. He'd stick by it.

He glanced at his watch, not wanting to be late. It was half past four. Only two hours before they had to leave. He sat on the edge of his bed, amongst the discarded clothes and stared at himself in the mirror. Two hours. He could wait.

* * *

**As per usual, updates are unpredictable, and any reviews, are most welcome.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Sorry guys, this isn't actually an update.**

**I am officially giving up on _Trials and Tribulations. _I know, I know. I've kept you guys waiting so long for _this?!_ I've actually written about ten different versions of the next couple of chapters and they're all crap. I literally can't get my head in the right place for this story anymore.**

**Now, we have a few options.**

**1.I leave this note up as a warning, but keep trying to get this damn thing finished. (which, in the interest of full disclosure, probably won't happen).**

**2.I put out a call for anyone interested in picking up where I left off. They can work from a summary I give them, or go their own way, and the end result will be put as a collaborative effort.**

**3.I post a summary here of what would have happened, it wouldn't be very detailed, but you'd know.**

**4.I take the whole story down and we all pretend it never happened.**

**I can't apologise enough for this. Honestly, I'm not sure what happened. It might be because I started 4 o'clock so long ago, or maybe because I've kind of fallen out of the Psych fandom. It also might be because I'm actually in a lot better and happier place at the moment than I have been through writing most of this. Whatever the reason, I just haven't been happy with anything I've written in this verse in a while.**

**So, let me know what you think, which option is best. Or just rage at me. I kind of deserve it.**


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